


Back to the Grid

by Shaish



Series: Back to the Grid [1]
Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam goes back to the Grid after a strange dream and winds up getting into more than he bargained for, and finding someone he didn't really expect to find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to the Grid

**Back to the Grid**

 

 

 

The wind was whirring around him, the waves of light from the portal blinding his vision. “DAD! I'M NOT LEAVING YOU!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to make it out over the rush of sounds. But something was wrong. CLU wasn't there, Quorra wasn't there, just his dad, yelling something at him. It should have been 'TAKE HER', but it was something else, something shorter that wasn't reaching his ears. His dad's mouth was moving but there was no sound, at least none that he could hear.

“WHAT? DAD! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!” he shouted back, and saw his dad repeat the words, but still heard nothing. What was he-

Sam jolted awake as the alarm clock went off with more, and increasing, clarity than 'should be legally possible'. He reached up desperately, eyes unfocused and refusing to stay open for more than a millisecond before having to blink repeatedly, like a newborn child, as he found the source of the wailing sound and quickly, albeit ungracefully, slammed his hand down on top of it, shutting off the alarm clock and burying his face back into his pillow.

A moment.

Two.

Before he shifted, gave Marvin, who was curled up on the blankets a few short warning nudges before throwing them off, rubbing his face with a hand as he slowly sat up and rose unsteadily to his feet. He started moving about groggily, shuffling in the bathroom's general direction, his t-shirt twisted uncomfortably to his form and boxers half as disheveled as his hair. “What a weird dream..” he mumbled to himself.  
He had a long day ahead of him.

\-----

His whole day at the office went by in a blur, his mind almost entirely elsewhere. It'd been about a month since he and Quorra had left the Grid, and he'd had his fair share of strange dreams since, but this one had felt different somehow. More important, more urgent, reminding him, nagging at a memory he couldn't but his finger on. Or maybe it was just because his 'dad was trying to tell him something,' as ridiculous as that sounded.

“I'll..leave the rest for Alan Bradley to explain,” he'd said at some point, taking his seat off to the side from where he was standing at the head of the meeting table, Alan giving him a brief look of exasperation, but complying to the young CEO's whims. Really, Alan didn't have a problem debriefing the rest of the way. Years of having to be idle on the sidelines had built up something in the man, and although no one else could see it, Sam had known the man long enough to notice the smallest hop in his step when he got to take charge, the smallest of Alan's guilty pleasures. At least, that's what Sam made of it.

“As our new..CEO was saying, OS12, despite it's being leaked on the internet,” a pause to give Sam another brief stare, amusement hidden in his eyes, “has made it's fair share of profit for Encom. We will be going a head with...”

Sam had stopped paying attention. He'd tried for a good solid five minutes at one point. _What was he trying to say_..He thought to himself, gaze unfocusing on the glare near the middle of the table. _What was it.._

Before he knew it, the boardroom's members were dispersing out the doors, chattering and murmuring idly between each other as the room slowly emptied. He hadn't even noticed the jittery man that had made his way to his side.

“-old game.”

“What?” Sam asked, attention snapping to the jittery employee standing nervously to his right.  
“I asked if-if we were g-going to try and refor-format the Tron games for the u-upcoming gaming systems. They were a huge hit after all,” the more frail-looking man said, anxiety apparent in his tone and posture. 

“...Tron,” Sam almost missed himself say, eyes distancing back to his dream from early that morning.  
He quickly rose from his seat, ignoring the man in oversized glasses as he rushed out the double doors of the boardroom, missing Alan's slightly confused expression as he walked with new purpose in his steps. _Tron. Of course! That's what the old man was saying_ , the young Flynn thought to himself, hurrying his way past groups of more of Encom's employees to the elevator. 

In his head his fathers' urgent expression was replaying, his mouth now moving with the audio filled and missing word supplied. But what did his dad want him to do with Tron? Was Tron even still alive? He remembered hearing his dad mumble something along those lines when they were in the Grid, but with all the commotion that was going on and the hurry they had been in, he never really got the chance to stop and think about it.

It was now that the memories came back, now that he remembered the impression of the small action figures' plastic form against small and softer hands. A gentler time, a more simple time, before the day everything changed. Once, that figure was all he had left, the most solid reminder of a promise, a hope, and he still had it, sitting on his shelf in his new apartment. It didn't light up like it used to, and he didn't grip it with desperate hands like he once did, but it was still there, and he still treasured that last gift of his childhood hero.

Sam pulled out his cellphone as he reached the parking garage, pressing the second speed dial on it as he made his way to the old Ducati. “Yeah, Quorra, it's me,” he spoke after the other end of the line had picked up, “I'm heading to the arcade. I need you to meet me there.”

\-----

“Sam..I don't think this is such a great idea,” Quorra said, a disapproving look plastered on her face. She hadn't been back to the Grid since either, too engulfed with the 'real world' and all of its distractions. It was harder for her at first, being in an entirely new place, knowing nothing of it until she found it out from Sam. After a week, Google had become her closest companion. She said she missed it at times, missed the way certain things felt in the Grid, looked, along with the fact that it was where she'd lived her whole life. But, as she'd put it after a great deal of thought, “That place isn't for me anymore. There's nothing left for me there. Besides, Flynn wanted me here, and I want to find out why.”

“It'll be fine Quorra. ..Probably,” Sam replied, fiddling with the laser for a moment before returning back to the desk, adjusting the portal's time frame.

“That's exactly what's worrying me! You don't know what's happened to the Grid since we left. You don't know what's happened after the reintegration..You could be walking into a death trap for all we know!” she persisted, setting her hands stubbornly on her hips.

“And for all we know I could be walking into nothing but blank grid space,” he insisted, letting out a quiet sigh as his eyes softened at the ISO. “Look, I know it sounds crazy to go back like this, but I'm going.”

“Why are you going back, Sam? You've barely done anything down here since we first arrived,” she asked, expression now lighting up with open curiosity. “Why go now? What's got you in such a hurry?”

With a final few lines of coding, Sam hit a key and said, “I've got a feeling. Keep an eye on the portal for me!”

“A feeling? Sam! Wait!”

But it was too late. The laser had done its job, and with a flash of blinding light he was in the Grid.

Well, more like the old arcade's basement, but it was definitely in the Grid. The lack of color, the darker grays that painted the room and the objects inside. This time around he was already dressed in the form fitting suit, the lights a dim and constant glow illuminating the small room. He wasted no time making it up the familiar yet unfamiliar stairs and down the hall, pausing at the double door entrance to slowly crack one open and take a peak through the sliver at the world outside. _Not making that mistake again_. Sam pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped cautiously outside after seeing no motion in immediate sight, walking slowly out into the street as he had done in a rush once before.

“Nothing seems to be different from the last time I was here,” he mumbled to himself, almost relaxed until the search light from above surrounded him. “Crap! Forgot to look up!” The street around him turned to blocks and parted away, down, leaving him standing on a lonely pillar, hand raised above his head to try and see past the light as the Recognizer lowered itself to him. Sam cursed aloud to himself as the guards stepped forward, and all he think or say was, “Man, not again!”


	2. The Games

  
**The Games**   


_Caught again. On the same damn street. In the same way. How lame is that._ Sam glances around, trying to get a better look at his new company. Same amount of programs as before, but this time the color variations are much, much wider. Blue, green, yellow, different from the last time where there had only been white-blue circuitry. 

His eyes wander to the guards on either side of the transparent floor, and above him at the driver. _At least that hasn't changed,_ he thinks, though isn't sure if the confirmation of red circuitry is a good thing or a bad thing. _Probably bad,_ he thinks.

The ride to the familiar, wide platform doesn't take long, but he takes the chance to get a better look at the city below, and is surprised at what he sees. The city is intact, for the most part, which means his father's reintegration with Clu hadn't destroyed it, but there were some buildings in ruin, fractured coding, failing lights, rubble layering some of the streets. _Aftershock? But that doesn't explain why only some of the buildings are like that._

Before he could get too far into thought, the Recognizer was descending, ready to land on the barren docking pad. This time around, none of the programs were sorted through for rectifying, and they all ended up being dragged off to the large elevator.

“What's going on? Don't tell me we're all going-” Sam started, but before he could finish he was shoved into place, and the elevator started it's quick and swift descent with the group of programs on board.

–----

The room was different. That was the first thing he noticed. Instead of just the one room, it was a wide-long hall with several doorways lined up next to each other. One at a time Sam, and each of the programs, were forced into a separate doorway, a door sliding down from the top of the frame behind him and closing him in. The walls lit up in a bright white, illuminating the hallway before him. Before he got much of any time to think, the floor started moving him forward, and down the seamlessly never ending hallway he went, confusing surfacing on his features.

It didn't take long at all, shorter than he was expecting, to reach another room. Three women were standing in the middle of the closed in room, each dressed the same, hair styled the same, and each staring at him with that same familiar look. “Sirens,” he said aloud, glad to see something else that was familiar. The sirens weren't any that he'd previously met, however, and he didn't see Gem among them. Last time they met he ended up in a free for all fight with the Black Guard and Quorra lost an arm. As much as he didn't really want to see her because of it, it would have been better to see someone familiar than a total stranger with the same getup.

“Don't tell me this is for the games,” he said reluctantly, earning him nothing but the constant stare as the three Sirens closed in on him, inspecting him from head to toe.

“Inspection complete. Program is ready. Head to Games.” said one in a monotonous voice, all three backing up and stepping aside, the wall opposite of him parting to reveal a familiar stream of light.  
All Sam could think or say was, “Man, not again,” and walk forward into the engulfing light.

–----

“I can't believe he went in like that!” Quorra half yelled to the now empty desk chair sitting in front of her. She walked over to the laser and angled it off to the side before walking over to the desk, taking a seat in the once occupied chair and letting out a frustrated sigh. _If he wasn't trusting me with the portal.._ “I hope you're alright, Sam,” she said softly, letting out a quiet, resigned sigh.

–----

He heard the crowd, and music, both gradually getting louder as his transparent cage raised high above the stadium floor. _Music? That's a weird addition._ His fingers were fidgeting slightly as his 'cage' filtered into a larger box, joined by a program's containment area. “I was afraid of this,” he sighed to himself.

“Battle initiate,” came a monotonous female voice from above, and Sam reached back and pulled his disc free, helmet building up and forming over his head, the yellow program across from him doing the same. “Here we go again.”

–----

“Seems like our new 'CEO' ran off again,” he heard someone say behind him, causing him to turn around and see who had made the comment. “Mr. Dillinger,” Alan confirmed, hands resting at his sides. 

“As smart as I'll give him credit for, he certainly likes to take off whenever he pleases. Makes me worry about this company's future,” Dillinger Jr. said with a slight smugness in his tone, one that Alan was fully aware of.

“I'm sure it was urgent,” Alan replied, not giving an inch in his standpoint.

“I'm sure,” Dillinger said unconvincingly, making his way past the older man, “Let's just hope it doesn't become a permanent habit.”

Alan turned to stare after the younger programmer for a moment, pulling his phone out after the younger man was a decent distance away and sending a text to Sam's cell. _Where did you run off to now._

–----

Sam quickly dodged the disc that was coming at his face, side stepping to the left and ducking as it headed back to its owner. He threw his own with a brief grunt, running towards the program soon after. The yellow program managed to avoid it but didn't see him running up to it following the throw, and before the program had time to react, Sam caught his disc on the brief turnaround and plunged it into the yellow program's chest. “Sorry, man..” he said quietly, standing straight and looking down at the yellow scattered pixels now layering and settling on the transparent floor, a twinge of regret running through him. 

“Combatant Nine. Deresolution. Combatant Seven. Round One Victory.”

But he didn't have time to stop and stare for long. Before he knew it, two other program boxes had joined his, forcing his attention to the circuits of yellow and blue. “..Well. This is new,” he said to himself, taking a defensive position as the other two did the same a distance ahead of him on his left and right.

“Round Two. Initiate.”

A blue disc was hurled in his direction, while a yellow disc was aimed for the blue program. Sam deflected the blue disc with his own, running at the yellow program while the blue one dodged the incoming yellow disc. Sam derezzed the yellow program with relative ease, taking advantage of it being distracted while trying to catch her returning disc. The yellow program, literally, fell to pieces with a yell, making Sam flinch at the sound. 

“Combatant Eleven. Deresolution.”

The yell distracted him long enough to not notice the blue disc coming at him fast enough, the buzzing light skimming his shoulder as he tried to move back with its motion. “Gah-!” he let out, throwing his disc in retaliation. Blood slowly crept out over the edge of the black suit, a small, dark red line over the black contours. But thankfully, being in the midst of a battle made it impossible for the other combatant to notice.

The blue program rolled forward and out of the way, catching his disc and throwing it again at Sam, copying his movements from earlier by getting up and running at him right after the throw. Sam caught his disc and charged the program, deflecting its throw again with his disc and then swinging it down towards the program's neck. The program blocked his arm with its own, spinning around and kicking him in the chest, knocking Sam on his back while it caught its' returning disc. He only had time to look up and block with his arms crossed in the air as the blue program came down on him, bringing its' disc down with heavy force. Sam swung his legs up on either side of the program and wrapped them around its' waist, shoving with all of his body weight and rolling the two over, straddling the program briefly before bringing his disc down, cringing slightly as it collided with the blue program's chest, the program itself letting out a distraught, distorted sound just before derezzing below him into a mass of pixelated blue.

Sam slowly rose to his feet, panting faintly with his disc at his side as the voice came from overhead.

“Combatant Two. Deresolution. Combatant Seven. Round Two Victory.

“Round Three. -”

Sam turned and looked around, shoulders hunching inwards slightly as he saw the three new programs all take their fighting stances. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“- Initiate.”

–----

“Hm?” Quorra glanced over at Sam's cellphone, identifying the origins of the buzzing sound that had stirred her out of her reading. Lowering her book down on top of the desk, she reached over with a hand and picked up the device, sliding a finger over the flat surface to light up the screen. “Alan Bradley,” she said aloud, eyes going fractionally wide when she read over the message. Oh no, what do I do?! Sam! She thought in a panic, eyes glancing at the desk quickly before returning to the phone. _He doesn't know about the Grid, so I can't just openly tell him where Sam is. And won't he get suspicious if I'm the one who answers Sam's phone?_

Quorra let out another frustrated sigh before setting the cellphone back onto the desk, looking back at her book. _Maybe if I just ignore it it'll stop._

–----

He was panting now, the sound of his blood rushing filling his ears and drowning out the blaring music. The green program had taken out the other two, making quick work of the blue one. The yellow female tried to sneak behind him when he was dealing with the blue one, but the green program made quick work of her. It seemed the only reason he'd dealt with those two first was because they were closest. Now, it was down to just the two of them, staring at each other, poised to strike at any given moment. The only downside to being a user, it seemed, was that he was becoming more and more aware that he needed a break, while the program in front of him was as ready as ever.

–----

“You're just in time to see the start before the finale,” said a calm, female voice, eyes remaining trained on the sight before her.”

“Yes, well. I had a fair share of things to deal with while you enjoyed the show for me,” answered a male voice, coming around the flat and three seating section, taking a seat just short of the white haired woman. “How is our..'entertainment' fairing,” he said, the end of his lips coming up in a slight curve as he leaned back against the back of the seat.

“Well enough.”

“And our 'champion'?”

“Compliant. He seems reluctant to do much else.”

“Well, fortunate for us we don't need him to do anything else but fight. I'm sure he'd agree,” he replied, rubbing a pale hand briefly over the patchwork of pixels down toward his right knee, “Nothing else. For now. Not until we have what we need.”

White eyes flickered in the man's direction before glancing up at the distant but radiant light in the sky, returning to the scene before the two of them.

“Put them both in the finale,” he spoke up after a moment, his sly smile angling just that much higher on his lips, “it should make for an interesting battle.”

“Or perhaps you're just being impatient.”

The man gave a short laugh, “Perhaps.”

–----

Sam and the green program were about to launch at each other, before the boxes started shifting again.

“What?” he said aloud, easing up slightly from his position as he let his eyes wander the area.

The two boxes dislocated before lowering down to the floor of the stadium, joining with a large and vacant section. _Where I fought Rinzler,_ he thought to himself, _or more like where he kicked my ass._

Three more boxes joined the section on the floor of the arena, releasing two blue programs and another yellow on either side of him, and one on the side of the green program.

“Combatants Three. Five. Seven. Fourteen. Twenty. Versus Rinzler.”

“What?” Sam said aloud, head raising a bit to see a familiar form step out of the shadows across from himself and the programs, eyes widening just a bit at the sight before him.

“Initiate Final Round.”


	3. Meeting

**Meeting**

“Rinzler,” he muttered to himself, eyes tracing the illuminating white-blue glow of the program's circuits as it stepped forward out of the shadows of the battle arena, blacked out helmet in place. _Wait. White-blue?_ He started, eyes going over the program once more. _Rinzler's circuits are red. But that pattern.._ he thought, eyes making their way up the limited circuitry to the programs' sternum, _That pattern.._ Sam's eyes widened once more, memories flooding his mind from long, long ago.

_“Bum-bum-bum-bum-BUM- TRON.”_

_“He fights for the users!”_

_“He sure does, kiddo.”_

Lost in his thoughts, his reaction to the green program coming at him was delayed, jerked out of his thoughts at the sight of green in his peripheral vision. “Whoa!” he let out, jumping back a few steps as the program aimed his disc for his neck, “You sure you don't wanna fight someone else?” he tried to reason, raising his disc back up into position. The green program rushed at him, letting out a deep growl as he swung his arm down at Sam, disc in hand. “Guess not!” Sam grunted out at the impact, blocking the swing with both arms crossed in front of him. 

The two blue programs, as well as the yellow, had started their assault on Rinzler, forming an uneasy but quick alliance against the seasoned fighter. Sam caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, catching sight of two discs in action, making quick work of one program before derezzing another-

“Ack-!” He let out as the green program kneed him in the stomach, sending a fist to his face and minorly cracking his helmet.

He landed on his back again, twisting quickly to get back on his feet as the program rushed him once more. 

He didn't notice the small trail of blood finding its way out of the corner of his mouth, slowly making its way down to the edge of his chin. “Did I do something to make you hate me? Not that I had the time to,” he half teased, panting in slightly heavy breaths. _I'm in pretty good shape but come on! This is completely unfair! Multiple opponents at once, round after around? I guess that's what I get for trying to keep things quiet._

Sam had been so occupied he hadn't noticed that he was being watched by the very program he himself was trying to keep an eye on, one that, unlike the others, had quickly noticed the signs of a User.

The green program toppled Sam, knocking his disc out of hand and placing a firm grip on his throat, raising his own disc back behind him, preparing to swing down.

“Gack- Wait-” he tried to choke out, the grip on his throat quickly cutting off his air supply as he tried to grab at the program's arm, gloved fingers raking over the others' black armor in a futile effort to remove the program's hand.

The program above him paused in his motions, green eyes glancing down at the trail of red streaming out of the corner of Sam's mouth, eyes raising back up to meet his face. “User..” he said in a low, distorted voice, “You are-” he started, but it quickly turned into a distorted yell, green pixelated pieces falling on top and all around Sam as a disc flew through the green program's upper chest.

Sam coughed for a moment, the sound drowned out by the crowd's loud cheer. He almost jumped at the hand offered down to him, eyes searching up as they found its source, as well as the source of his saving disc. “Rinzler,” he mumbled, the program flinching slightly at the name, “What are you-” he started, reaching up with a hand and hesitantly taking the programs', quickly pulled to his feet with a firm grip. It was now, at this close distance, that he noticed the lack of low rumbling that should have been coming from Rinzler. Strangely, instead there was only silence. 

He took a brief moment to glance around, edging back to his disc to reach down and pick it up while wiping at the blood on the corner of his mouth, the pile of yellow pixelated pieces in the distance the only confirmation that they were the only two left in the arena.

“We need to go,” he heard Rinzler say, voice low and altered through the blacked out helmet.

The User only had time enough to give Rinzler a briefly confused expression before he was being pulled by his forearm, brisk walk picking up pace into a full on run.

Rinzler threw his combined discs at a hexagonal section of the arena floor, breaking through the floor entirely before catching the discs and hurling them again, breaking through the main arena floor in a second hard blow, jumping down into the hole and pulling Sam down along with him.

“Where are we going-?!” Sam tried to get out mid-jump, quickly swallowed by the blackness of the underground, question lost to the loud audible chatter and cheers of the surrounding crowd as they faded with the arena's light the further down they slid.

–----

“It looks like we've found what we were looking for,” said the male, amusement and excitement on the edges of his tone.

“It would seem so.”

“Release the Sentries, if you please,” he returned nonchalantly.

The woman raised a white sleeved arm and gave a flicking motion with a few fingers, the guards behind them shifting and leaving the room at the silent command.

“Now the game really begins,” chimed the male, his smile turning sly as he swung his cane freely in one hand.

–----

“Nng..” was the first thing out of his mouth, the only thing illuminating the darkness being their combined circuits, “I think I pulled something.” Sam shifted from his position on the ground to sit up, looking around the dark space while his eyes attempted to adjust to the new lighting. “Where are..” he trailed off, glancing up at where they had jumped through. The floor, or ceiling as it was now, had sealed itself, repairing what the discs had broken after they'd jumped in.

“That's right! Rin-” he started, turning his head back down to look around, but cut off mid-sentence, only now realizing that the program's blacked out helmet was right in front of his face. He jumped in surprise, moving his head back a little as his face lit up slightly at the proximity, his heartbeat picking up it's pace momentarily. “Or is it..Tron?” he asked, eyes catching sight of the four blue-white lit squares from old memories.

Tron's back straightened a little at the name, helmet folding back after a moment to reveal dimly lit locks of brown hair and gray-blue eyes. 

“Sam Flynn,” he said calmly, quietly, eyes unwavering from Sam's face.

“..Alan? You look like Alan.”

“You know Alan-One?”

“Yeah, he..helped take care of me after dad got trapped in here.”

Tron's eyes seemed to lose focus briefly before he nodded slightly, rising to his feet in one swift movement. “We need to go,” he repeated from earlier, holding a hand out for Sam to grab.

Sam took it, hesitantly, after a moment, pulled back up to his feet once again. “But you are Tron, right? What happened to being Rinzler?” he asked, trying to keep the hope from his voice, though it was building up in his chest.

“I was able to overcome Clu's reprogramming,” he replied, voice lowering and going a little stiff, body a little rigid at the name.

If he hadn't known better, he could've sworn he saw anger in the program's eyes. But that didn't stop him from feeling the overwhelming emotions from his childhood, swelling up in his chest like they'd been dormant since that night.

“We don't have much time. They will catch up to us soon,” Tron said calmly, turning to walk down the dark path ahead of them.

“Uh..Right,” Sam managed to get out after a moment of staring, jogging slightly to catch up to the Grid's hero, pushing aside the pain from the earlier battles.

\-----

They'd been walking for a while now, Tron leading the way, Sam staring at the circuits on his back and dimly lit brown hair. _I feel like I should say something but I don't know what. What do you say to someone who's been your hero since you were seven and suddenly appeared before you, in a world you didn't know existed until a month ago? And then you find out he, and that world, actually exist! And he's right there in front of you!_

“I have an action figure of you,” he blurted out, mimicking Tron as he came to a sudden stop.

Tron half turned to look at Sam, confusion making itself known on his face. “What is an action figure?” the program asked, waiting, curiously, for a reply.

“It's uh..” Sam trailed off, a light blush finding its way to his cheeks, “It's a small toy, made of plastic. It's like a..miniature replica of you. Lights up too.” _I can't believe I just said all that out loud,_ he thought to himself, eyes trailing down off to the side. “I uh..” he started again, fingers fidgeting slightly at his sides, “You were my hero when I was a kid. ..Are..my hero,” he forced out, cheeks lighting up just a little bit more. _Thank someone, anyone that it's so dark down here._

Tron's mouth parted slightly, as if to speak, but closed soon after, eyes trailing off like Sam's, his own cheeks faintly filled with some of their own color. “I see,” he said calmly, though there was a strange electrical current coursing through his circuits. “Flynn..mentioned you often when he was here,” he said after a moment, “I remember him saying that you wanted to come here. To meet me. I apologize..for failing your expectations,” he finished quietly, turning away slightly as his expression turned a little despondent, though it was only at himself.

The air had turned thick, heavy, and Sam's eyes snapped back up to the program, catching sight of the look on his face. Before he realized it, he reached up with a hand and took hold of the program's arm. “No, it's not-” he cut off, releasing Tron's arm after getting a startled look in return, “I mean..What you did, that wasn't you. If you had the choice you wouldn't have done those things, I know you wouldn't have. It was all Clu, not you,” he tried to assure the program, eyes finding their way back up to the strangely familiar face.

Tron looked surprised at first, but his eyes soon found the ground again. “That's no excuse for what I did,” he said slowly, turning back around, “But thank you, Sam Flynn,” and he continued to walk down the dark passageway.

Sam stared after Tron for a moment, frowning slightly before catching back up to the program, walking at his side this time. 

“Just Sam,” he said, his tone lighter as he gave his companion a friendly smile.

“..Sam,” Tron said after a moment of thought, lips twitching faintly at the sides. 

Something lifted in his chest, even if just a little. And the User found that he would take that tiniest smile over that deep sadness any day.

–----

They spent the rest of the walk in silence, though it wasn't uncomfortable. Sam figured it was best to let Tron navigate, since he seemed to know where they were going, and he himself couldn't see past the program next to him, and didn't want to get them lost down in the tunnel trying to prove otherwise.

“We're here,” Tron spoke up as they came to a stop in front of what looked like an old Grid door, pressing his hand to it. Sam watched as Tron's circuits lit brighter for a moment as some ribbons of light branched out on the door's surface from underneath his hand, the door making a brief click before sliding to the side and opening the way. 

“This will take us to the surface,” Tron said, walking into the new tunnel.

Sam glanced behind them briefly before following after, “I'll take your word for it,” he said lightly, but he meant it. He'd probably follow Tron just about anywhere, his hero, the Grid's hero.

It was halfway down the tunnel that they heard the echoes. Heavy boots colliding with the tunnel floor behind them. Tron was the first to react, head snapping in the sound's direction before turning to Sam, an urgency in his expression and tone. “We need to move,” was all he said, and then they were running, trying to outrace the footsteps behind them, closing in.

After covering a good deal of distance, they finally reached the next door. Tron placed his hand on it as he'd done with the previous one, more ribbons of light stretching out before opening, a rush of air swirling in from the surface, their hair shifting in the currents.

Before Sam could get a good look at the city streets outside, the rows of light, passing vehicles and programs, he was being pulled down, a disc flying right over where his head had been. Tron detached his own disc, throwing it back and derezzing a Sentry as he tried to get Sam to move through the opening. 

“Go!” was all he had to say, and they were on the move. Crossing the threshold quickly, Tron catching his returning disc and quickly closing the door behind them.

“Now what?!” Sam asked, adrenaline coursing through him. It was subduing his earlier battle injuries, but he was bound to feel it later. 

“This way!” Tron replied, running up a half busy street in the city, dodging pedestrian programs left and right before turning into an alleyway, Sam on his heels.

“Where are we going?!” Sam asked, glancing behind him and catching a glimpse of red in the sea of white-blue.

Tron didn't reply, only rounded a corner, and another, up a street then through another alley, stopping behind what appeared to be a club. “There,” he finally said, and Sam whipped his head up, panting now as the light runner came into view, a program standing next to it.

“Shaddox,” Tron said, slowing his pace and walking over to the taller, bigger program.

“Tron. It has been many cycles since we last met. Is this the User?” Shaddox asked, eyes moving over to get a look at Sam. The User returned the studying stare, watching the two converse from a slight distance while glancing over his shoulder after a moment.

“Yes. The light runner?”

“As per your instructions.”

“Thank you, old friend.”

“Be careful,” was all he said in return, leaving the two with the vehicle.

“The Outlands?” Sam asked, giving Tron a questioning look.

Tron simply nodded and rounded to the other side of the vehicle, opening the top and sliding into the driver's seat. “Get in.”

Sam couldn't help but crack a small grin, “I've heard that one before.” The User slid into the passenger seat, looking back to the street as the top lowered back down into place. “Here they come,” he said urgently, body tensing in his seat at the sight of red circuitry appearing around a corner.

Tron started up the light runner, white-blue circuits flaring to life as the engine roared.

“Floor it!” Sam yelled, gripping the side of the door.

Tron shifted the light runner into gear and took off down the back way alley, while Sam half turned in his seat, watching as the Sentries brought out their light cycles. 

“They're following us,” he said out loud over the engine, turning to look over at Tron.

The program's expression only turned more determined, shifting the light runner into a higher gear as they raced through the city, streams of red following close behind.


	4. The Chase

**The Chase**

“They're gaining on us!” Sam yelled over the engine at some point, the light runner swerving at the end of a street and turning onto another.

One of three Sentry light cycles sped up, coming up along the back side of the light runner, the streams of red light cut off from the rear end of the light cycles so as not to end up taking out each other in their tight cornered chase.

Tron shifted the gear once more, glancing over at the nearby Sentry before jerking the wheel sharply to the right, ramming the red light cycle into the nearest wall. The light cycle and Sentry derezzed in a burst of red and white, part of the wall going with it, only leaving pixelated pieces behind as they continued to speed down to the end of the street, turning into a wide alley on the left.

“Got him!” Sam let out with a victorious grin, raising a fist in the air briefly to further express his heightened mood. He didn't really approve of derezzing programs, but Sentries were in a league of their own, and right now they needed to finish their getaway. 'Survival of the fittest,' as it was put in his own world, and regularly seemed to apply to this one.

The two remaining Sentries came up along either side of the light runner now, the alley too wide to simply ram them into walls as they had done with the previous one. Each Sentry drew a weapon, the one on Sam's side going for a staff, the one on Tron's side going for its' identity disc on its' back. 

“Ah shit-” Sam let out as the end of the staff was lunged towards his face, bending at the waist just in time to duck down and avoid the attack.

“Sam!” Tron shouted over the rush of sounds from the light cycles, light runner, circuits and wind, turning his head sharply to look over at the User, his teeth gritted in frustration and slight worry. Tron took one hand off of the light runner's steering handles, reaching back for his disc and throwing it at the Sentry in the middle of its next strike, managing to derezz the program before its next attack could reach the ducked down passenger. The Sentry's light cycle went off balance and steered off into a wall, crashing and exploding to pixelated pieces in a flash of red and white like the previous one had.

Sam hesitantly sat back up after a moment, leaning back up and sitting back against the seat after getting a better look at where the attacking Sentry had been. He looked over at Tron to give him a thanking grin but the start of his smile turned into an opened mouth look of horror before he could. 

“Tron-!” was all he managed to get out, hand reaching over desperately, but futilely as the last Sentry's disc came down, taking a part of Tron's arm with it.

Tron let out a strangled sound before steering the light runner to the right momentarily, turning it sharply to the left and colliding with the Sentry's light cycle, throwing it off balance and causing it to run into an oncoming building, the light cycle joining the others in a burst of red and white, it too becoming a pixelated mass of program pieces.

“Tron!” Sam yelled again, worry and panic building up in his chest and taking over his shocked expression. 

“I will manage,” Tron replied, gritting his teeth as he sharply turned the light runner around to pick up his combined discs.

–----

“You're not fine!” Sam said for the fifth time since they'd reached the Outlands, staring at Tron the whole time. His worried expression was plastered on his face, and it wasn't going anyway any time soon. Tron was still gritting his teeth and Sam could tell, his jaw had been clenched since his arm had been hit, strained and trying to bear even more pain on his own. _I've had enough of that._ “Pull the light runner over! Now!” he insisted over the sound of the engine, waiting for Tron to comply.

Which he didn't.

“I've contained the damage,” was all Tron said in return, eyes purposefully focused on the path ahead.

The User gritted his own teeth at the response, leaning over after a moment and reaching across, setting his hand on one of the light runner's steering handles, Tron's head snapping in his direction with a frustrated and startled look. 

“Sam! What are you doing?!” He yelled back, the light runner swerving with the small tug-of-war between its passengers.

“I said pull this thing over!” He shouted in return, his brow furrowing at the program.

Tron finally gave in with a last stubborn look at the son of Flynn, gearing down the light runner and pulling it over beside a large rock side next to the main trail they were on. The light runner quickly came to a stop, skidding slightly and kicking up just a bit more dirt and small rocks off the back tires, the rock side lit up by lines of white-blue circuitry emanating off of the vehicle and two passengers. _Finally,_ was all Sam could think as he raised the top of the vehicle, stepping out and rounding its front to Tron's side.

Once he'd reached the driver's seat, he leaned down next to the program, trying to get a better look at the damage done to his arm. His eyes widened at the sight.

“What do you mean 'you'll manage'?! This is a mess!” he let out, eyes glancing briefly at Tron's face before returning to the red lined, pixelated gash in the the program's arm, looking it over intently to assess all of the damage.

Tron glanced away from Sam briefly before his eyes returned to the User's face, watching him carefully, surprised at the concern. He'd never had to be worried over before, especially not with someone who's expressions were so..open. The experience was new.

Sam's eyes darted back up to the program, finally coming to a conclusion. “Let me see your discs,” he said, remembering something his father once did, “I want to try and remove the damaged code. You're not an ISO but..it might work.” It was a bit of a long shot but it was better than nothing, and he couldn't just sit by when someone he admired, who was risking his life for him, was injured like this because of him. In this way Tron reminded him of Quorra, and everything she'd done for him during his last trip to the Grid. It wasn't easy to see then and not any easier to see now.

He hesitated, studying Sam's face for a few moments before leaning forward slightly, retrieving his combined discs from his back and handing them over to Sam.

Sam took them gingerly, opening up the hologram screen to start searching. He delved into Tron's coding, trying to remember the bits his father had been going into with Quorra's when she was injured during his last visit to the Grid. It wasn't as complex as the ISO's, but it was still difficult for Sam to navigate. He'd gotten a decent amount of the way in when he saw something he wasn't looking for, eyes widening once more as they looked over the remnants of Clu's old programming, the Rinzler coding.

“This is..” he trailed off with quiet surprise, glancing up at Tron who was staring at the coding with a new look in his eye, one Sam could only describe as disgust. He shook his head quickly and brought his attention back to the task at hand, resuming his search for the damaged code.

Meanwhile, Tron was still watching him carefully, unsure of what to make of the aid the User was trying to give him. It puzzled him, confused him to be worried over like he was, but as foreign as the idea had seemed to him for the past several cycles, and then some, it reminded him of a time when someone else would have done the same thing, someone he once knew. _How can they be so different, yet so similar,_ he wondered to himself, a strange current of electricity running through his circuits, eyes softening somewhat as he stared down at Sam's face and anxious expression.

“Found it!” Sam let out, another victorious grin finding its way onto his face, eyes darting up at Tron.

Tron was brought out of his thoughts at the outburst, glancing down at the hologram projected from his discs. “Can you remove it?” he asked, a strange current sounding like hope edged into his voice.

“I should be able to,” Sam replied, attention returning to his task. The User reached into the projection with his fingers, closing them in on the red coded areas and slowly dragging them out, the red code stretching and molding together before reluctantly releasing itself from the blue-white coding of Tron's system. The damaged code color shifted to white as Sam brought it out into the open, releasing it into the air and letting it drift off on a wind current.

“So you'll turn into a small butterfly and flutter off for dad but not for me, huh,” he couldn't help but half joke in a quieter tone, eyes distancing and softening briefly at the memory before he closed the projection screen and handed the discs back to Tron, eyes turning intent as he watched the program reattach them to his back, glancing down at the damage done to Tron's arm.

The red outlining areas of the gash faded to white, and both stared hard at the damaged area, waiting, Sam expecting to see the injury repair itself as Quorra's had done.

A moment.

Two.

Three.

Nothing was happening beyond that, and Sam let out a defeated sigh, Tron's expression relaxing into resignation and giving the User a small appreciative look. 

“Man..” Sam said quietly, looking at the injury both disappointedly and somewhat sadly, a frown forming on his lips.

“You tried, Sam,” Tron said after a moment, placing his other hand on the User's shoulder, fingers connecting with a circuit.

Sam looked up at Tron with the frown still on his face, “Yeah but I was hoping it would-” he'd started, but cut off as the small flash of blue-white light caught his eye, pulling both of their attention to the hand on his shoulder and damaged area on the program's arm. The injury's white pixelated edges began to glow, more pixels extending and reaching each other in the once empty space, repairing the damage in a matter of seconds. 

The glow ceased once the repair was done, and Sam half fell back on his ass, staring in the mirrored disbelief that Tron had on his face. 

“Ha!” Sam let out, a laugh taking over his voice.

“But how did..why did it..” Tron tried to question, looking from the now repaired space on his arm to the User sitting on the Outland ground. “User power..” he said quietly, surprise in his voice.

“Whatever it was, it worked!” Sam said cheerily, rising to his feet. 

He didn't stay on them long. As soon as he rose his balance was off. He brought a hand to his forehead as he wobbled, falling forward.

“Sam-” Tron let out, rising quickly from the driver's seat and catching the falling User in his arms, shifting his hip against Sam's to try and hold him up right. “Sam. Sam? Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“I..” Sam trailed off, regaining his footing after a moment, one hand moving up to rest against the underside of Tron's forearm, the other hand rubbing at his forehead with a few fingers, “..Yeah, I just felt a little dizzy,” he finished, looking up at the Grid hero after a moment.

“Are you sure?” Tron asked, worry on his face as his hands gripped the user's upper arms, not quite willing to risk letting him go just yet.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, a light smile forming on his lips, “I just got up too fast, that's all. Just a head rush.” He dismissed the small incident, looking up at the program now. “Wait..” he started again, expression turning openly confused, “I thought you were shorter than me. Since when were you taller?”

Tron blinked once before a slight smile spread across his lips, only shaking his head lightly in response, eyes returning to Sam's after a moment.

“..Huh,” Sam concluded, staring up at the minorly taller program, studying the height difference and his, somehow, softer facial expression. It was then that he noticed it.

“Oh, I uh,” he said a little too quickly, face heating up as he tried to step back, releasing Tron's arm, “I can stand now,” he finished, eyes finding a fascinating rock in the dim surroundings as he was released.

“Yes. Right,” Tron returned, releasing his hold on the user and stepping back a little himself, eyes making their way to one of the light runner's glowing circuits, a color of his own slightly lining his own face. 

A few awkward moments went by before either spoke or looked at each other. “We uh..should probably get going,” Sam was the first to say, Tron only nodding in agreement as he returned to the driver's seat, waiting as Sam rounded the front end of the vehicle once more and sat back in the passenger's side. 

The light runner's top lowered back down and Tron put the vehicle back into gear, pulling back onto the main part of the trail and picking up speed as they continued on their way, neither looking at each other straight in the eye for most of the ride, each becoming lost and focused on their own thoughts.

\-----

Quorra's eyes darted back to the cellphone, the 'silent mode' buzzing against the tabletop again. _I wish Sam had told me what to do about this sort of thing **before** he left,_ she thought to herself, eyes returning to the book she had in hand.

And then it started ringing.

The ISO's back went stiff in a cat-like fashion, eyes widening as they glanced back at the cellphone. _This is almost like keeping a secret from Sam! It's making me so unreasonably nervous!_ she thought in panic, setting the book down once more and picking up the small, rectangular object.

She slide a finger over the touch screen after the call had gone to voice mail, opening a new text message to Alan and typing in something brief. “Soo-rry. Buu-syy,” she sounded out as she entered in the letters, sending the message and setting the phone back down quickly. _Please don't send a reply, please don't send a reply._

She'd met Alan not too long after she came into the 'real world', he visited Sam frequently enough that it was inevitable, and with Sam becoming the new CEO of Encom it was just plain unavoidable. Alan wasn't a bad guy, not in the least, and it was fascinating for her to meet another User, especially one that Sam had known for many cycles, or 'years' as the Users put it. Quorra even visited his wife Laura after she'd stopped by for one of the visits, both finding an assortment of technological things to discuss. She dared say Laura was her first friend in the User world, aside from Sam of course.

Then an idea struck her.

 _Laura! Maybe if I tell her she'll understand! And keep Alan sidetracked long enough to stop looking for Sam until he gets back?_ she thought, worrying her bottom lip in indecision. _But if I tell Laura, won't she just end up telling Alan anyway? Does Sam even want Alan to know about the Grid?_ “Urgh! Sam! What am I supposed to do?!” she groaned.

–----

 _Busy?_ Alan thought as he gave the message on the screen of his cellphone a quizzical look. _Wish he'd at least elaborate. That kid._

His expression turned briefly suspicious after a moment but he decided to shrug it off, opting to finish his work instead. _I'll just check in on him on my way home,_ he decided, making his way back to his recently upgraded and far more spacious office.

–----

“Don't tell me we're going to dad's safe house,” Sam finally said over the engine, breaking the settled in silence between them.  
Tron only gave a brief nod, eyes remaining focused on the Outland path they were on, avoiding slabs of raw Grid material here and there.

“Why there?” Sam asked after a few moments, not entirely sure how he felt about returning to the place.

“It is the only area I know of in the Outlands that will give us a place to strategize,” Tron answered simply, “It was compromised previously but I doubt they will bother to look there again for some time.”

Sam's head snapped at that, expression turning from confused to shocked to concerned. “They tracked the light cycle,” he said more as a confirmation to himself than a question, eyes drifting down to stare at the dashboard area in front of him, teeth gritting at the thought.

The program glanced over briefly at the User before returning to the road, avoiding another Outland rock. “Do not worry. Flynn and the ISO had already left by the time we got there. The area was deserted,” he tried to assure Sam, memories retrieved from his time as Rinzler. It was an unsettling feeling, like foreign currents darting through his circuitry, but it was a fact, one that he had to face.

Sam glanced back to the program at the words, hope in his eyes. “Yeah?” he asked, Tron only giving him another nod. “Yeah..” he trailed off to himself, turning his head and looking out the passenger window at the Outlands, a small, half strained smile making its way to his lips. _At least they got out in time,_ he thought, though the guilt was still there for being even remotely responsible for putting two people dear to him in danger. _The end result was still the same though,_ his head added in on its own, making Sam wince slightly at the memory.

The memories of his father were distracting, so instead he focused on his hands in his lap, flexing his fingers a few times and watching both the gloved and fingerless gloved areas contrast against each other. He still couldn't help thinking, _I miss you, dad._

Tron was watching him quietly out of the corner of his eye, observing, trying to comprehend the feelings of a User. It wasn't that he didn't understand them on a certain level, he too felt a sense of loss when it came to his old User friend. He imagined it to feel different to Sam, but some part of his system couldn't help wondering if programs and Users were really so different in that regard. His time with Flynn had been a strange one, and he'd no doubt changed because of it. It went against his programming, his directives, but he _wondered._

–----

They arrived at the old safe house after a decent amount more of speeding across the Outlands, zigzagging up the leveled path and into the hidden, long and lit tunnel, Tron shifting the tires back from spiked to flat surfaced with the transition. The light runner came to a stop at the end of the passageway, the top lifting after Tron cut the engine, releasing its two passengers.

Sam and Tron walked over to the double leveled, flat elevator, neither really willing to take the lead for their own reasons. Sam didn't want to face the emptiness that waited above, and Tron couldn't help feeling like he was invading the place, as the last time he'd come to the house he was under orders from Clu, not himself, not invited by the old friend that had once occupied the space and now was no longer a presence on the Grid or in the User world, now only remaining in his memory banks.

The lit floor of the elevator illuminated the rock lined, skyward tunnel, both remaining silent during the ride and letting the sound of the almost silent machine fill the space their words didn't. Sam was looking off to the side, Tron was staring up at the end of the tunnel, neither willing to speak or even look at each other, not yet.

They rose up into the dark, wide room at the top, the lit elevator coming to an equally as silent stop. Sam was really starting to feel his battle attained injuries now, but bit his tongue and kept quiet, eyes wandering to the meditation pad on the floor at the far end of the room, the one where his dad had been sitting the first time he saw him in years, too many years.

Tron was observing the dark space with new eyes, taking in details differently than he had the last time he was here, looking at things from a different programmed perspective. Rather than seeing which objects would be the most useful in a sudden attack, which table could withstand the most force of a blast, which patterns of squares he should take for the quickest or more advantageous routes, he looked at them with a more curious sense. What Flynn had needed a vase for, what purpose the table on the right was supposed to serve, small things, yet somehow almost a valuable thing to learn.

Sam was the first to step off of the elevator, breaking Tron's concentration momentarily with the sudden movement in the still space. The floor squares lit up at first touch, the whole room coming to life in its own way with the motion.

The program's eyes retraced their steps, moving from the User to everything he had just been looking at, and then some, now much more clearly seen. At least, until Sam spoke.

“So,” he started, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat and turning around to look at the program, “Now it's time for you to tell me a story,” he mimicked the memory that played through his mind, half tempted to smile if his mood had been up for it.

Tron nodded after a moment, stepping off of the elevator platform.


	5. The Hunt

**The Hunt**

Both Sam and Tron quickly rose to their feet, the program positioning himself in a defensive stance in front of Sam, causing his eyes to dart down at him, a little surprised at the action. _I don't need protecting,_ his mind automatically supplied when he couldn't think of anything else for the gesture, _hell, I've dropped out of helicopters, for starters._ But, his thoughts were cut off as Tron reached back for his discs, detaching them and pulling them apart quickly, arms stretching out in a shield-like fashion in front of the User. Sam retrieved his own disc from his back, as well, taking a defensive position of his own behind Tron, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

 _Eight seconds,_ Tron thought, eyes focused intently at where the elevator would soon come to a stop across the wide open room. Sam's eyes were just as focused, his mind jumping ahead to try and figure out who it could be. _Did Zuse find us already? I thought Tron said they wouldn't bother looking here for a while. Unless.._

When the elevator did finally stop, he was immediately surprised at who he saw at the other end of the room, they both were.

“Loreza?” the program asked aloud, easing somewhat from his defensive stance.

Sam cocked his head slightly at Tron's reaction, eyes looking back up at the new program. _Well that certainly wasn't what I expected,_ he thought, raising an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Is she a..Siren?” he asked aloud, his confused state obvious on his face.

The dark haired, dark skinned Siren in white was looking around urgently, trail of long black hair from her high ponytail flowing from side to side at her small but quick movements, eyes quickly finding what they were searching for. “Tron-” she started, balance briefly put off as the entire house shook with a loud but muffled boom from outside, Tron and Sam following suit, losing their own balance a bit at the impact. “You need to leave!” the Siren suddenly shouted across the space, “This area has been compromised!”

Tron's back quickly straightened, head snapping as he half turned toward the city behind them, Sam following his line of sight almost as quickly, mouth falling open as soon as he saw the large red energy ball coming straight at them.

“Down-!” Tron said quickly with instantaneous realization, snapping his discs together to hold them in one hand, the other quickly grabbing the User's arm in a firm grip and pulling him forward up the stairs a short ways, tugging him in front before covering his back to shield Sam as they fell forward and landed on the lit floor squares, the blast hitting just below and the edge of the deck-like part of the house. Sam let out an “Oomf-!” as they hit the ground, gritting his teeth slightly at the added weight as his previous injuries shot a twinge of pain up along his side in protest. The house had shaken more violently with that second blast, bits and pieces of rubble crumbling down from the ceiling, vases, tables, and books falling to the floor with loud crashes and thuds. 

“Hurry-!” he heard the Siren yell soon after, the weight on his back lifting and shifting to his side, Tron pulling him back up onto his feet with that same firm grip on his arm. 

“Sam, we need to move-!” Tron half shouted urgently to the User, pulling him quickly in the direction of the elevator lift, brisk walk turning into a full on run across the wide rumbling room. “What's going on?!” Sam tried asking at some point, but the end of it was drowned out by the sound of another blast heading their way. They managed to make it to the elevator before it hit, but only barely, the program and user falling onto it on their hands and knees with the loss of balance from the blast, the safe house shaking violently. 

The Siren started the elevator as soon as they landed, the flat surface beginning its decent down the long, dark passage.

Sam sat up a little to turn slightly, looking over his shoulder at the room. Many of the lights were glitching, cracking, things overturned and falling over with the shock waves. Something in his chest cringed, tightened at the sight, his eyebrows drawing together disapprovingly. _They're destroying the last of my dad's place,_ he thought bitterly, the room shifting out of sight, his vision becoming filled with the wall of the elevator's passageway, illuminated by the large floor panel of light.

Tron only let himself glance at the User briefly, a current of sympathy and understanding shooting through his circuits at the look on Sam's face. He didn't appreciate the crude demolishing of his old friend's once home either, not one bit, and the look it put on Sam's face made him despise the actions even more.

“What's going on?” Sam demanded this time, the first to speak up after another shock wave hit the rock side, managing to rise to his feet shortly after Tron.

They both looked to the Siren, waiting for an answer. It seemed Tron was almost as confused as Sam was.

“Zuse tracked an energy source left by a Sentry,” the Siren started, white eyes turning to her two new companions, “they must have injured one of you. He tracked you using the fragment of the Creator's disc.”

Both Sam and Tron's faces lit up with realization, the program's hand raising up at the memory to grip the part of his upper arm that had previously been damaged.

“Fortunately for you two,” Loreza began again, “the Game Arena was quit productive in its' rumor spreading this cycle.” She turned her head away to face forward, stepping off of the elevator as soon as it reached the bottom tunnel level, Sam and Tron quickly following suit as another shock wave and muffled blast of sound hit. 

There were two vehicles in the tunnel now, one being the light runner Sam and Tron had used to get to the safe house, the other being a smaller, one-seater version of the vehicle parked along side it.

Tron's eyes scanned the tunnel briefly before confirming that there were no Sentries or Black Guards in the vicinity, not yet, anyway, and returned his disc into position on his back. They quickly made their way back to their light runner just as the Siren had returned to hers.

“Follow,” Tron instructed the Siren, sliding into the driver's seat as Sam quickly rounded the front, slipping his disc back into place on his back before hurriedly getting into the passenger's side. Tron started up the engine, the circuitry flaring back up in it's blue-white display. Loreza only nodded once in response before slipping into her mode of transportation almost simultaneously.

Another muffled boom.

Another shock wave.

More rubble shaking loose from the tunnel ceiling.

“Don't tell me me we're going out the way we came in. I don't think we'd last two seconds out there,” Sam said with slight worry in his voice, looking to Tron for an answer.

The program pressed a small button down below the driver's side dash, a wall opening up behind the elevator and revealing a new, hidden long and lit tunnel.

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“The ISO prepared for the worst,” was all Tron said, shifting the light runner into gear and taking off down the passageway, quickly gathering speed, the Siren following close behind.

 _I'll have to thank Quorra for that when I get back,_ was all Sam could think in response as they headed back out to the rock filled Outlands.

–----

Sam turned in his seat the moment they left the the cover of the long tunnel, trying to get a look at what was causing all the damage to the once safe house. “A tank..” he confirmed more to himself than anything else, but Tron heard him anyway, unwilling to take his eyes off of the makeshift road. 

“I don't think they're following us,” Sam said louder over the engine after a moment, finally turning back around to look over at the program, trying to push his thoughts about the place aside. Tron just gave Sam a nod, weaving between slabs of Outland rock as they sped down in the dark terrain. “I haven't been down this way before,” he started again, “where will this way take us?”

“Through some abandoned colonies and around back to the city,” Tron returned over the mixture of sounds, hands gripping the steering handles just a little tighter at the thought. 

_The ISO colonies.._ they thought in unison.

–----

When they finally did reach the old colonies, a digital ghost town, Tron couldn't resist the flood of memories rushing in from his memory banks, filling his thoughts with times he'd rather not remember. Screams turning into distorted cries, battles everywhere, derezzing Sentries and ISOs surrounding the entire area, red and white circuitry mixing in stark contrast as they clashed. 

The feel of his own discs going through ISOs, fighters and bystanders alike. 

That involuntary rumble coming out of his reprogrammed system.

“Tron..?” he distantly heard, thankfully pulling him out of his thoughts.

He didn't realize he was gripping the steering handles so tightly.

Tron let up his grip considerably after his attention was pulled back to the road ahead, but his circuitry was invisibly wound up in knots in his chest. “I'm fine,” was all he said in response, exiting the area of the ISO colonies and making their way to the edge of the city.

 _You don't look fine.._ was all Sam thought in return, watching the program quietly from his side of the light runner.

–----

Tron decided to let the Siren.. _Loreza,_ Sam's mind supplied, lead the way at some point, probably when they'd gotten closer to the edge of the city would have been his guess. The program slowed down the vehicle and maneuvered it to the side of the road, barely giving enough space for the Siren to pass, but it was more than enough for what she'd calculated.

They followed her into the city, somehow managing to stay on what Sam considered to be back roads and scarcely used alleys, little to nothing in signs of life. The Siren ahead of them seemed to maneuver the streets with a similar smooth and calculated manner that Tron was moving the light runner in, rounding corners at just the right moment, slowing down at just the right spot so as not to cause too much noise or draw too much attention to themselves from nearby pedestrian programs, avoiding the main streets altogether so as not to run into any Sentries.

When they finally did come to a stop, it was behind a building in a covered parking area in a somewhat more secluded part of the city, away from the hustle and bustle, the clubs and loud beats. The district seemed to be more dedicated to living quarters, seemingly countless upon countless layers of living spaces, one on top of the other, making buildings that stretched up towards the lightning filled sky, but all relatively even and equal in height.

They exited the light runner after the top lifted, Sam rounding the front once more and leaning his head back once they were out of the covered parking area, trying to get a better look up at the large building. “Reminds me of L.A.,” he half mumbled, “definitely more 'spick and span' though.”

Tron just glanced at him curiously for a moment after he'd caught up, following his line of sight. “Your 'City of Angels'?” he asked calmly after a moment.

“Something like that,” Sam replied, a small smile finding its way to his lips at the thought of the place. _It already feels like I've been in here for days,_ he couldn't help thinking.

The program's eyes aimed up higher, getting a better look at the digital clouds and lightning flashing above. “The sweep will start shortly?” he asked over to the Siren, getting a confirming nod from the program in white as she made her way up the back steps, motioning for the two to follow.

Tron moved over to the User, setting a hand on his shoulder briefly before walking past to follow the Siren, pulling Sam out of his thoughts to follow suit. The three made their way inside, into a much more enclosed elevator at the end of the white lit hall, and up to a middle floor, keeping quiet most of the ride up. In the middle of his observations, the User finally came to realize something he should have a while ago. “Can we trust her?” he leaned over to Tron and whispered, raising a hand to the side of his mouth in an attempt to keep the words from reaching her ears.

Before Tron could reply, the Siren spoke up. “I owe him,” she said calmly, turning her head slightly to give Sam a mildly amused smile. 

The User straightened, glancing off to the side sheepishly at being confronted for his question. Tron just gave a small smile at the exchange, following the Siren out of the elevator once they'd reached the floor. The three walked down a dimly lit white hall, stopping in the middle in front of a door that looked like all the others, at least it did to Sam. The Siren placed her hand on the door, letting it read her code before it quietly slid open, allowing the three to walk inside.

The room lit up as soon as a step reached past the threshold, illuminating the entire room in a sea of white light. It was spacious, the entire far right wall a row of glass windows, giving the inhabitant a view of the Game Arena on the other side of the city, across the varied rows of buildings and tower-like structures. There were white chairs here and there, but for the most part the furniture was minimal. There was a bar-like area to the left, and Sam couldn't help cocking an eyebrow. _They sure do like their glowy drinks,_ he thought to himself, eyes finding their way back to the Siren as she spoke.

“I prepared this living space for you once I heard of the incident at the Game Arena, as a precaution,” she started, “I've set the codes under my name, so it should be some time before they will be able to find you here. The rest area is in the back through that doorway,” she paused, motioning behind her with a hand.

“Thank you,” Tron said calmly, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. “I believe..we will need to put a small team together to get the fragment of Flynn's disc away from Zuse, and get Sam back to the portal on time,” he said a firmly, though hesitant to _”lead others into battle”,_ Sam's mind supplied from one of their earlier conversations.

“I've already begun the process,” Loreza replied, a small expectant smile on her face, “the first should be arriving after the sweep, the others will arrive shortly after of their own chosen time. Rest while you are able,” she finished, returning the nod from Tron before leaving the living quarters, the door sliding closed behind her.

“What is this about a team?” Sam asked after a moment, looking at Tron curiously once the program's attention shifted to him.

“I calculated and formulated on our way here, since the attack shortened the time we needed to come up with a strategy. I've estimated we will need more than the two of us to get Flynn's disc away from Zuse. We will need resources we do not currently have, and more than one wielder of similar expertise than only myself,” he answered calmly, walking over to what Sam had mentally deemed 'the bar' after a moment and pulling out a blue liquid filled container, pouring some into a smaller glass. “You should drink this,” he said after a moment, offering the glass out to Sam, “It will help subdue the aches from your injuries.”

Sam stared at the glass, glancing up at Tron for a moment before accepting it stubbornly, taking an experimental sip. _How did he-_

“I noticed when I shielded you,” he answered before Sam could finish his own thoughts, eyes darting back up at the program in surprise. “Can you read my mind or something now?” he asked incredulously.

“No,” Tron replied, giving him a small amused smile, “I've just come to know you better in our short time together,” he answered simply, moving from the bar to walk over and sit on a more cushioned seat next to one of the tall panel windows.

Sam followed after a moment of staring at the back of Tron's circuitry once more, taking a seat next to the window as well, across from the program, letting out a short, relieved sigh as the pain started to numb down in his side. “That green guy really got me,” he let out, taking another sip of the blue liquid, circuits flaring briefly in response. 

“He was previously a military program,” Tron said idly, blue-gray eyes shifting to look out the window.

“How could you tell?” Sam asked, eyes moving back up from the drink in his hand to the program's strangely familiar face. _He just looks so much like Alan. It'd be weirder if they didn't act so different,_ he thought idly.

“Circuitry color,” he replied, glancing up at a flash of lightning in the distance, “green is the military's primary circuit color.”

“Oh..I didn't know,” Sam half mumbled in response, glancing back down at his drink, “So he was a fighter, kind of like you,” he said before he could stop himself, eyes darting back up at Tron almost immediately after.

Tron stiffened a little, eyes focusing on a building across the street. “..You could say that,” he said a little quieter, his memory banks running through the program's deresolution in a brief stream.

“Look I-” Sam tried, looking back down at his drink once more, “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, making a frustrated face at the blue liquid casting his reflection back at him. _Shouldn't have said that,_ he thought at his reflection, mentally kicking himself.

They were quiet for a while after that, until Sam finally noticed the water drops hitting the glass and that the room's lighting had dimmed down to a soft glow, making their circuits stand out even more, illuminating in their reflections. “I didn't know it rained here,” he said softly after a moment, and for a second he thought he was back in Los Angeles. Digital rain or not, it still had the same calming, nostalgic effect. 

“'The Sweep',” Tron said almost just as softly back.

“Is that what that is,” Sam confirmed quietly to himself, taking another sip of his drink before his eyes shifted back, startled to find blue-gray eyes staring straight at him. He wasn't sure if it was the effects of the drink and the rain or if he was just a little delirious, but when he stopped to really look at Tron he looked..the only words that came to mind were 'pretty' and 'beautiful', _hardly something you'd say to another guy,_ he thought, mentally kicking himself again for the weird thought. _Maybe intense is a better word,_ he thought again, leaning the side of his head against the close glass, eyes darting away from the program, a strange pressure building up in his chest under the Grid hero's stare.

Tron tilted his head just slightly, trying to study the User across from him at a different angle. He couldn't fully tell what it was, but the User was mesmerizing his visual input. Maybe it was how fragile the User currently seemed, or maybe it was the way the circuits in his suit illuminated his face and hair just so and reflected off of the glass. Whatever it was, he was having a difficult time looking away, trying to form a better understanding of the way his circuitry was fluctuating at the sight.

Sam shifted a little uncertainly under the programs' intense stare, circuits on his leg brushing the minimal circuitry on Tron's, causing the most unexpected of reactions. A faint but noticeable shade of purple shot up briefly through Tron's circuitry, making the program's body seemingly loosen before his back went stiff in record time. As for Sam's circuitry, a strange and overwhelming feeling of pleasure shot up through his own suit, moving in one fading wave throughout his whole body, fading out through his muscles. As relaxing as it briefly was, it sure surprised him, eyes widening and face automatically heating up. His drink nearly fell out of his hand after a brief muscle spasm in his fingers.

“What the hell was that?” he asked suddenly, a colored tint to his cheeks and eyes wide at the program and searching for the answer, somehow expecting to find it in Tron's face.

Tron opened his mouth almost automatically to reply, but closed it soon after, eyes quickly finding their way to the floor. He stood up after a moment, taking a few steps back before finally looking back at Sam. “We need to get some rest before the others arrive,” he said instead, trying to dismiss the User's question, moving to turn and, quicker than usual, making his way to the previously pointed out back room.

“Wait- What-” Sam tried, sitting up quickly. But, Tron was already a good deal of distance away, and he didn't think he would get a reply even if he did ask again. _What **was** that,_ he wondered to himself, curious expression aimed at the distancing minimal circuitry on the program's back. “Man..” he trailed off after a moment, downing the rest of the blue liquid like a shot before standing up himself, “What the hell.”

He set his now empty glass on top of the bar as he passed it, pausing briefly to stretch out his arms, legs, and torso, letting out a somewhat content sigh after the short exercise. The User made his way over to the back room as well, pausing at the door frame to take a look inside, surprised at what he saw. “There's only one bed?” he asked aloud, not seeing Tron in the immediate room. 

Shortly after, the program returned from another short hallway to his right, blinking once before his eyes looked over at the large sleeping area. “So it would seem,” he answered after a moment, returning his attention to Sam, “But we won't be staying long. You should take it while I stay on guard out in the main room. You will need the rest more than I will.”

“But-” Sam started, his brow drawing together, “Don't you need some rest?”

“I can rest out there,” Tron replied simply, walking over to the door frame and pausing before he exited the room, “Get what rest you can.” And then he left, leaving Sam once more to his own devices. _Sure, because I don't feel kind of like an ass for being the one to take the only bed,_ he thought sarcastically to himself, but shook his head in defeat, moving over and crawling onto the cushions, trying to make himself comfortable. His mind kept replaying the sensation that had shot through him at the touch of circuitry, the shade of violet that had illuminated Tron's circuits, and he had to pinch the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger just to distract himself from it. _Stop it,_ he thought, rolling over onto his better side and curling up slightly, _just stop.._ And then he finally managed to drift off.

Tron returned after a while, pausing at the door frame silently to check on the User. He couldn't help his eyes softening a bit at the sight, temporarily forgetting the problems of the Grid, their problems, his own problems, though they managed to still cling to the edges of his thoughts. _He makes the Grid somehow seem more peaceful, even though I know it isn't,_ he thought to himself, unable to prevent the smallest and briefest smile from crossing his lips before raising an arm and setting his palm flat against the space next to the door frame, closing the door to the room of the sleeping User to make sure it stayed that way, even if it was only for now, even if it was only in that room.

Tron returned to the main living area, taking a seat next to one of the non-glass walls and making himself a little more comfortable, letting his system idle into rest. 

The sweep would continue for a little while longer.

–----

The first thing he noticed, was that he felt rested, which was why he was so confused. “What..” he let out drowsily, strained even to his own ears, shifting a bit on the bed before stretching out with a wide yawn, sitting up and resting back on his hands after a moment. “Where..” he trailed off again, blinking for a minute as he let his eyes try to adjust, taking in his surroundings, “Oh right..we're at that place the Siren-” _Loreza,_ his mind corrected, “..Whatever. A new place to crash until 'the others'- Oh. That's right.” Sam edged over to the side of the bed after realization set in, leaning over for a moment to rub his face with both hands. _How long have I been out?_ he thought to himself, looking around for some sort of clock but not finding one, _..Duh. Grid. I wonder if they're here already-_ His train of thought was cut off by the sound of a crash coming from the other side of the door. The User sat up quickly, now far more alert, rising to his feet and closing the distance to the door in fast strides, eyes going over the door frame in frustration as he tried to figure out how to open it. 

“How do I..” he trailed off, gritting his teeth a little, eyes finding their way to one of his hands, “..Wouldn't hurt to try.” Sam raised a hand to the door, pressing an open palm to it and quickly retracting it after the door slid open, only pausing briefly before stepping out of the room quickly while his eyes looked for the source of the crash he'd heard.

“I said _**no**_ ,” Tron gritted back, expression clearly angry and practically glaring down at a shorter, hooded and yellow circuited program.

“Oh come on! Just one peak! I've been waiting for this moment for _five hundred **cycles**!_ ” the yellow female program exaggeratedly snapped back, illustrating her point by firmly placing her hands on her hips. “I just want to see what he looks like!”

“I won't say it again,” Tron returned, voice unusually and dangerously low, “You are not to disturb him. He needs rest.”

The yellow program was about to attempt a comeback, which Sam found strangely brave given Tron's reaction, but he decided to intervene.

“What's going on? I heard a crash?” He asked lightly, eyes darting back and forth between the two.

Both of their heads immediately snapped in his direction, Tron's expression turning from hostile to taken aback that he'd been caught acting that way, the yellow program going from stubborn to star struck in record time.

“ _Oh my circuits_ it's a User!” she let out after a moment, eyes staring at him with a look that reminded him of a hungry reporter fishing for a story at a press conference. She was about to start rushing in his direction before Tron maneuvered himself effortlessly into the gap of space between them, cutting her off almost immediately. “Would you stop? He's clearly not resting right now!” she protested, trying to see around her new blockade to the treasure behind it.

“Sam,” Tron started, ignoring the yellow program and turning somewhat to look at the User over his shoulder, “Are you well rested?”

Sam could only blink at the scene before him, attention finally turning to the only program he actually knew the name of out of the two, rotating his shoulders experimentally after a moment to double check, a light smile forming on his face. “Seem to be,” he finally replied, “How long was I out?”

“An adequate amount of time,” Tron returned, the yellow program peering at Sam from around the taller program in front of her. “My name's Xolla, I'm a search program,” she broke into the conversation, drawing both curious and wary attention to her, and Tron couldn't help but think, _An unconventional one._ “So you're the son of the Creator huh? Your physical design is better put together than the rumors say,” she finished with a bright and pleased grin at her findings.

Sam could only blink at the strange response. “Uh..thanks?” was all he decided to say, not sure what to make of the new program.

Tron merely stared down at the girl with a warning look in his eye. As guilty as he felt for his merciless times as Rinzler, he was trying very hard not to derezz the shorter program on the spot, feeling strangely protective of the User behind him. “This search program-” he started, but was cut off by the very same program he was telling Sam about.

“Will be your information retriever,” Xolla cut in and finished for him, earning her another unfriendly look from the other program. 

Once Sam could finally get a good look at her, she came off rather.. _mousey,_ his mind supplied, trying to keep an amused look from his face. She was roughly 5'2” in terms of human height measurements, wearing a hood lined with yellow circuitry that was attached to her suit, raised over her head, black and even bangs cutting off just at her eyebrows, long, belled sleeves covering her hands. The hoodie-esque top cut off half way down the top of her thighs, a black skin-tight material covering her legs and disappearing into knee high, yellow circuitry covered boots.

“The others should start trailing in aaany-” she'd started, but cut off as the sound of the main door drew all of their attention, sliding open. “Here they are,” she said expectantly, all three sets of eyes focused on the living quarter's main and now open door.

 _I wonder what **they'll** be like,_ Sam couldn't help thinking, unsure of what he was about to find.


	6. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here are some super quick doodles I did of my OC programs, just to give you an idea of how they look, or how I pictured them to kind of look: http://shaish.deviantart.com/art/Tron-OCs-211778255

**The Plan**

He saw red, quite literally, walking through the door, which made him immediately tense, mind immediately jumping to _Shit, we've been caught!_ She was followed by another circuitry color that he recognized all too well. “Green and red?!” he let out, immediately reaching back for his disc, only now realizing that Tron already had his out, one in each hand. Tron was halfway through studying them for weaknesses and varied strengths, trying to quickly formulate an attack plan when Loreza came in through the door, holding a hand up in a placating manner before anyone could start attacking.

Sam noticed the red one was smirking at him.

His fingers tightened around the disc at his side.

“What is the meaning of this?” Tron was the first to demand, not easing up from his defensive stance in the slightest, still positioned in front of Sam, like he had been in his dad's safe house.

“There's no need for that,” the Siren started, lowering her hand back to her side.

“'No need'?! Their circuits are red and green! What the hell do you mean there's 'no need'?! I mean blue and yellow I could understand but come on!” Sam let out, obviously confused and in a foul mood, not that anyone who knew what he'd been through both trips to the Grid could blame him.

Xolla had managed to edge her way out of the middle of things and towards a wall, seemingly ready to bolt at the first sign of derezz.

“They are willing to maintain silence about the User and aid you in your task,” she started calmly, “they both loath Zuse, I dare say even more than you.”

Sam eased up just slightly, raising an eyebrow, “Yeah? And why is that?” he asked, waiting for a reply.

“Because the bastard double crossed us,” the red one answered bluntly, “twice. Almost derezzed us in the process. Getting back at him is my top priority, dealing with a User like you can wait,” she ground out bitterly, sizing up Sam with judging red eyes. 

“'The enemy of my enemy,' as your Users' saying seems to go,” the green one spoke up, but kept his voice quiet, expression blank and unimpressed with the current events and company.

Tron was the first to ease up out of his stance, Sam hesitating to do the same but eventually following suit, though he could tell the program's guard hadn't gone down in the least. Tron's body was tense, stiff, still positioned between Sam and the newcomers as his eyes intently looked over the two programs before glancing back at the Siren cautiously, and honestly Sam couldn't blame him since he was doing the very same thing. The two put their discs back into place on their backs, the yellow program, who's name Sam wasn't bothering with at the moment, inching her way back into the picture, even if just slightly. _She's obviously not a fighter,_ the User noted, glancing at her briefly before returning his attention to the two new programs before him.

“'Enemy of my enemy,'” Tron repeated slowly after a moment, studying the two carefully, “I won't hesitate to forcibly remove you from the group should you try anything.” His voice had gone low again, the threat more of a promise to Sam's ears.

The red one smirked again, the green one remaining permanently un-phased. 

It was now that Sam decided to really take a look at the two, eyes going over their features now that he seemed to have the time for it. The first thing he noticed was that the red circuited female was tall, as tall as he was he would have guessed, maybe even a little taller, but he wasn't about to just stroll over and compare heights with her. Her hair was an unusually bright shade of red, a stark contrast to anything and everything nearby, save for her circuitry. It was layered and flared out, the only signs of length being the two tail-like locks that trailed down to her waist over the front of her shoulders. She was wearing a full body suit like his, but at her waist was a belt-like harness, a skirt-looking attachment hanging from the belt and covering her left hip, also partly covering her leg as well. 

The green one was even taller, if only by an inch or two in human height measurement. He was wearing a cloak of sorts with a variety of circuitry designs that covered a good deal of his suit, the only parts visible being the green circuitry laced armor on his forearms and shins, his gloves fingerless and boots lined with circuitry of their own. His eyes were green like the other green circuited program Sam had had to fight in the Game Arena, but his hair was a dark shade of brown, spiked out similarly to the red one's, though not as wildly, skin darker than the others, save for the Siren.

“Their names are Roznal and Kex,” the Siren started, first gesturing at the red haired female program, who only smirked at the introduction, then to the brown haired male program, who remained impassive.

“They're fighters. A virus blocker and military,” Tron concluded, the three programs by the door's eyes shifting to him. It was then that Kex moved, walking across the room steadily to stand in front of Tron, who stiffened just that much more at the unwanted proximity with the unfamiliar program, guard still up. 

“It is an honor to meet you, Tron,” he said just as quietly as before, Sam's expression turning confused, Tron's turning suspicious, “I heard rumors of your skill when I was still part of the military's system. I hoped one day to meet and fight you.”

Roznal just tried not to laugh from the looks of it, but Tron's disposition changed, no longer strictly threatening but somewhat understanding, respectful, even if somewhat wary. “I see,” he heard Tron say, but he couldn't fully understand the exchange between the two programs, it's not like he'd been a fighter for over a thousand cycles, not like his companion.

“Yeah yeah, anyway,” Roznal interrupted, walking over to Kex and setting a hand on his shoulder, tightening her grip a bit before pulling him back slightly, “let's get this show on the road. I'm ready to make Zuse's empire crumble, and if that means teaming up with you two, so be it.”

 _Something we can agree on,_ Sam thought firmly to himself, eyes moving from the programs before him to the windows on the other side of the room, focusing on the Game Arena in the distance. _Getting back dad's disc,_ he thought, here we go again.

–----

“We'll need light cycles and light jets, one for each of us,” Tron informed the Siren, eyes returning to her, “see if you can get a second of both for each program, should one get destroyed during the mission.”

“I will see what I can acquire in the time allowed,” Loreza returned, leaving them in the living quarters once again as she headed out to fulfill Tron's request. 

They'd been planning for what felt like hours now, formed in a circle in the middle of the floor, the lights dimmed down as a precaution so as not to draw attention to the room. Sam decided to just keep quiet in his place next to Tron, legs crossed and forearms resting on his knees, eyes occasionally wandering from the map projection in the middle of the circle to each of the program's faces in turn as they spoke, though they always seemed to return to the program next to him. He wasn't an attack strategist or a weapon's expert, which the others seemed to be, and he couldn't gather them information like Xolla could, which was where she was at right now, instead of clinging to his side like she'd been before she left on the assignment given to her from Tron. The Grid hero didn't seem to approve of her clinging, but they _“don't have the time to argue,”_ he'd heard Tron say in a short sigh of resignation at some point.

“Zuse's main headquarters is like Clu's,” Roznal added in, pulling Sam's attention back to the matter at hand, “It travels over the length of the entire city at timed intervals and never stays in one place for too long, presumably so it doesn't end up getting blown up like the End of Line Club did. Zuse isn't one to make the same mistake twice,” she said with an unimpressed look on her face, “He's a coward, so facing him head on isn't the best option, either. We'll have to be stealthy.”

Tron nodded in agreement, reaching over with a hand and changing the close up image on the projection to the layout of the city, letting his eyes scan over the familiar details for a moment, searching. “Does his headquarters ever near the Game Arena?” he asked, blue-gray eyes looking back up to the red haired program.

“It does, but..” Roznal trailed off, reaching over to change the image on the map projection once more, a close up of the area around the Game Arena now illuminating the circle.

“But the only time it does is closely timed with when the Recognizers return to sweep that area or to drop off stray programs for the Games,” Kex added in, voice raised and more confident than when he'd spoken earlier. _He really 'shines' in these sorts of situations doesn't he,_ Sam thought idly, eyes still on the group, _well, makes sense I guess. He is a military program after all._

“That seems to be the only opportune time to begin our assault, aside from the docking point for resupply, but it's not down long enough for us to try and get in,” Tron said a little reluctantly, going over the prior idea plans in his memory banks.

“Yes,” Kex agreed, green eyes moving up to look across at the security program, “It is the only time when he is not over a populated section of the city, and the only time when the ground Sentries are not close enough to provide immediate assistance.”

Sam's eyes shifted back to the windows of the room, focusing on the Game Arena in the distance once more before glancing up slightly at the portal's light in the view past it. _I know I extended the portal's time limit, but it still feels like it will close any second. Will we really be able to get this done in time?_ he thought a little worriedly to himself, not realizing the search program had returned.

“I've confirmed it!” she said aloud, tone a little proud as she dropped back down to her spot next to Sam, sitting just a little too close, as was becoming a habit of hers, “Zuse will be reaching the Game Arena just before the next session of Games begin.”

The User was jerked out of his thoughts at the outburst, attention turning over to Xolla at the news she'd brought. 

“Just enough time to finalize the plan,” Roznal replied, “and kick Zuse off of his high horse.” The red circuited program smirked menacingly at the thought, and Sam could practically see the gears turning in her head.

His eyes made their way back to Tron, who seemed to be in even more deep thought rather than openly relieved. 

_If my calculations are correct, the portal will close not too long after the time we supposedly confront Zuse and take back the disc fragment, with minor time dedicated to combat included,_ he thought to himself, eyes losing focus while staring at the projection map, _I have to be sure to get Sam there before it closes. There has to be a way to cut down the time consumption. I will not have him end up as Flynn did._

“Will Mr. User being contributing to any part of this plan,” Roznal said a little smugly, eyes aimed directly at him, “He's been so quiet this whole time, not getting his precious hands dirty.”

Both Sam and Tron's eyes darted up at the program's words, Sam's expression turning defiant, about to give a comeback before Tron intervened. 

“Sam will be fighting his share once we get inside the headquarters,” the security program replied, obviously unamused by the virus blocker's words.

“But he'll be with you, which means _you'll_ be the one doing _most_ of the fighting,” she retorted, “And I thought User's had some sort of special power. Can't you do _anything_ useful besides sit there and look pretty,” she finished, looking down her nose at the subject of the discussion.

Tron was about to say something, but this time Sam interrupted, mood gone south. “What do you want me to do then? I'm not the guy that sits back and comes up with combat strategies, I'm the guy that does the crazy shit,” he snapped back, sitting up straight, “Just because I'm not throwing half-assed ideas out on a subject I know nothing about and you'd rather see me dead- _derezzed,_ doesn't mean I'm not willing to do my part. You're going to have to try harder to goad me on.” 

He didn't realize he'd risen to his feet, staring down at the red haired program across from him.

Whatever he'd just blurted out seemed to hit a circuit, however, since she rose to her feet as well at the sight of the challenge, reaching across to grab the User by the collar and tug him close to her face. 

“I'd love to see you derezzed, want to see me give it a shot? I'm curious to see if Users pixelate just like the rest of us,” she said slowly, glaring down at Sam, who only glared right back. _Definitely taller,_ Sam couldn't help thinking, even given the current situation.

Tron and Kex rose to their feet, about to intervene, Xolla carefully scooting back and out of the way of conflict again.

“I don't plan on dying today, so tough shit,” he said back just as slowly, reaching up with a hand and gripping the red circuited program's wrist, trying to pry it off of his suit.

Then something unexpected happened.

Sam's circuits shifted color, fading out from an illuminating white to a matching red.

Roznal quickly let go in response, expression turning wide eyed with surprise, Tron, Kex, and Xolla's faces following suit.

“Sam-” Tron cut off after a moment, a rather old memory file dragging itself out of a past system.

“What just-” Sam tried, raising a red circuited hand up and rotating it a bit, staring at it with equally wide eyes, “How did I- Why did it-” He couldn't seem to formulate an actual sentence.

“I've seen this before,” Tron said half distractedly after a moment, blinking once before blue-gray eyes shifted from Sam's hand to his face, “Flynn had red circuits once, when he tracked Yori and I to a Solar Sailor during his first trip to the Grid. But they changed back when..” The security program trailed off, reaching over and taking Sam's hand in his own, the red circuitry fading back to white after a moment.

“...Huh,” was all Sam could get out, watching the transition with fascination, “well that's cool.” The User's eyes found their way to Tron, grinning a bit enthusiastically, until he noticed the program was still holding his hand. “Uh..” he trailed off again, face heating up as he tried to release his grip.

Tron blinked once before noticing, releasing his hand quickly. 

“..Looks like you will be useful after all, _User,_ ” Roznal cut in, a devious smirk lining her lips.

Tron's head snapped at her, expression turning disapproving as his mind quickly caught up to her thought process. “No, we are not putting Sam in that kind of unnecessary danger. There is no need,” he objected.

“You _do_ want to get him to the portal on time, don't you?” Roznal responded smugly.

Tron flinched.

“You're not the only one who calculated the time.”

Tron's mouth opened to make a comeback, but Sam intervened. “I'll do it,” he said after a moment's thought, eyes shifting from his now white circuited hand to the two programs in disagreement.

“But Sam-”

“No,” he cut him off again, shaking his head slightly, “We need all the time we can get, and besides, I was feeling pretty useless.” He confessed, giving Tron a small, light smile, who only looked back at him with slight worry in his expression. “What do I need to do?”

Roznal's smirk widened.

Loreza returned to the living quarters, a large, silver case in hand.

–----

“Kex and Roznal will come in by light jet on the North and South sides. Stay in the clouds until you land, do not go below them or you will be seen, do not go above or the light jets' engines will fail. They do not operate consistently above the clouds' mass,” Tron instructed firmly, pointing out the paths on the map projection as he spoke, “Sam..” he trailed off briefly, “will slip in with the cargo reload when the headquarters is momentarily getting restocked on this building,” he gestured to a building on the map, “Be sure to try and follow suit with the Sentries when you are in their line of sight or passing them, they will quickly be able to tell if you are not meant to be on board if you give yourself away even by the slightest amount.” Tron's eyes and voice softened just a bit as he spoke, redirecting his eyes from Sam's face back to the map projection on the floor. “I will come in from below by light cycle.”

“Is that jump even possible?” Xolla chimed in, face full of surprise and disbelief.

“It is, but only if timed accurately,” the security program replied, eyes not straying from the map, “Once on the traveling headquarters we will have to move quickly. Only take out the Sentry and Black Guards that are immediately in your path, do not stray to take out any nearby. Our goal is to reach Zuse as soon as possible, not derezz all of the guards. Zuse and Gem are the top priority. Once we have the disc fragment, Sam and I will head for the portal. Sam will take the disc fragment back to the User world, making sure that no program here is capable of using it again.” Tron looked over all of the program's faces for a moment, sitting back once he confirmed whatever he had been looking for.

“What about the power balance?” Kex spoke up, green eyes shifting across to Tron's, “Once Zuse and Gem have been removed from the seat of power the social order will fall to ruin.”

“We will worry about that after the mission is complete,” Tron replied calmly.

Sam was watching them quietly, a tinge of something akin to guilt tightening in his chest. _Do they really need a User here to keep the peace?_ he thought to himself, eyes focused on the ground in front of him.

“Everyone should prepare themselves. We will head out shortly,” Tron concluded. “Loreza,” he said after a moment, attention turning to the Siren seated off a little ways in one of the white chairs, “Hand out the batons,” he instructed calmly, “and please adjust Sam's helmet to match a Sentry's.” Loreza just gave a brief nod, getting up from her seat to walk over to the bar, setting the silver case on the counter and sliding a slender finger over the seam, the case clicking open shortly after. 

She handed out all of the batons, somehow managing to get a hold of the amount Tron had requested, each program taking the tools with them to where they wandered, spreading out to different sections of the room. Roznal stayed close to the bar, Kex wandered off to a corner window, Xolla seemed to stay permanently fixated to Sam's general area, and Tron walked over to the center window, staring out at the view.

Sam moved over to the Siren, letting her alter his helmet from the top of the back part of his suit, which didn't seem to take much time at all.

“We'll be cutting it close, won't we,” Sam said more than asked quietly after walking over to the security program in front of the window once the Siren had finished her work, stopping to stand next to him.

“Yes,” Tron replied just as quietly, but kept his eyes on the Game Arena in the distance.

“And to think, I really only came back to find you,” Sam said a little quieter after a moment of silence, a brief, disbelieving smile making its way onto his face.

Tron looked over to him, a little surprised at the words. “..I don't understand why,” he finally said after a while, still looking at the User next to him for the answer.

“It's a really stupid reason,” he said back with a small, sheepish smile, keeping his voice down.

“What was it?”

“I had a dream.”

“A dream?”

“Yeah. Of dad. It was from when Quorra and I were in the portal and he was telling us to go and leave him behind. Except in the dream, he just kept saying your name,” Sam reached up with a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly for a moment, letting out a short and quiet laugh soon after, “I didn't figure out what he was actually saying until some employee brought up Tron.”

“Someone else from your world has been here?” Tron asked, expression quickly turning confused. 

“No no,” Sam said quickly, raising a hand in the air to illustrate briefly, “the guy was talking about the old Tron arcade game. Didn't dad tell you about it?”

“Oh,” Tron let out, realization setting in, “Yes. He had mentioned it once before.”

“Great. It would've been hard to explain if he hadn't,” Sam replied with a light laugh, clearing his throat after getting a stare from the program.

“I must apologize,” Tron said after a short while, pulling Sam's attention back to him.

“What for?” he asked, expression turning curious.

“I had assumed you came back to the Grid for a different reason,” he started, eyes focused on a building, “to bring order back to the system.”

Sam straightened at the words, glancing away from the program to look back out at the view instead, that tinge of guilt from earlier resurfacing and knotting up in his chest. “..Does the Grid really need a User here?” he finally asked, eyes eventually making their way back to his companion. He was surprised to find Tron looking at him, something in his eyes making him seem older than he physically appeared.

“We once functioned on our own,” Tron started, something new in his voice, or maybe it was old, Sam couldn't tell, “But after Flynn came into our world and helped to defeat the MCP, things changed. Some tried to go back to the way things once were, but our society relies on a ruling power, a guide, and I don't believe any one program here could suffice.”

The User stared at him as he spoke, thinking over his words carefully. “What about you?” he finally asked, “I bet you'd be a great leader,” he said with a slight encouraging smile.

Tron's eyes shifted down before shaking his head slightly, a small smile of his own finding its way onto his face. “No,” he concluded, “that role is not suited to me.”

“More of a 'right hand man' type aren't you,” Sam half joked, smiling at the program.

“'Something like that',” Tron mimicked from Sam's words from an earlier conversation, returning the smile.

Sam's smile gradually dissipated, eyes returning to the Game Arena, “I don't know if I'd be good at that sort of thing,” he confessed, “It's not the same as running Encom. It's a whole society, not just a single company.”

Tron placed a hand on Sam's shoulder after a moment, pulling him out of his thoughts at the touch.

“You are more capable than you yourself are aware of, Sam” the program said with a small reassuring smile of his own, making something warm build up in the User's chest in response. 

Tron released his grip from Sam's shoulder and was about to give the order to move out, but the search program quickly cut off his walking path, eyes wide and staring up at him as she spoke quietly, trying to keep her voice from reaching the others. “We have a problem,” she half whispered, leaning up slightly to try and lessen the height difference the security program had on her.

“What is it?” Tron asked, expression turning serious as he leaned down closer to her in return.

Sam was watching the exchange, moving a little closer himself to hear her words.

“There's a traitor in the group,” she half whispered quietly, glancing around briefly before continuing, “I checked and double checked one of the main information feeds I was tracking, and someone in this group definitely contacted the Castor system. Someone's been in contact with Zuse,” she said urgently, both Sam and Tron startled at the information. 

“This isn't good,” Sam said almost as quietly, following Tron's eyes to each of the other programs in the room, “we have to find out who it is.”

“There's no time,” Tron said, voice quiet and urgent, “It's time to move out,” he finished louder for everyone to hear, the other program's snapping to attention and beginning to gather at the main door.

Tron's eyes scanned over the group carefully, impossibly trying to solve the matter before they departed. _**Who** is it,_ he thought urgently, eyes intently focused.

Sam hesitantly made his way over to Roznal after a moment, almost unwilling to leave Tron's side after hearing Xolla's information, raising a hand up to the program. 

She stared at his offered hand for a moment, reluctantly taking hold of it and squeezing it with unnecessary force, Sam's circuitry gradually shifting from white to red. “Don't screw this up,” she warned before letting go, turning back around to make her way over to the others at the door.

Sam just gave her back circuitry a look, following Tron and the others out of the room. _It's show time,_ he thought, balling his hands into fists a little nervously at his sides, _here goes nothing._

–----

“Do you think they will come?” the white haired Siren asked, reclined on a rectangular formed couch-like mass of pixels.

“I know they will,” replied the male program, sly smile widening.

“You don't seem worried,” the Siren noted idly, white eyes turning to her companion.

“Why should I be?” the male asked, twirling his cane in hand, “The object we want is coming straight to us on our own ground. A gift, if you will.”

Gem's eyes shifted back to the open view above the city, slender fingers tracing an edge of the seat's armrest. “What will become of the User?” 

“I think you know,” Zuse replied curiously, walking around the seat to stand in front of the large window, arms spreading out wide, cane in hand, “'End of Line',” he mimicked with a laugh, lightning striking down in the Outlands in the distance.


	7. Execute

**Execute  
**

“Programs,” Tron had said aloud halfway down the hall to the elevator.

Everyone turned, expressions a variety of curious, expectant, impatient, and nervous.

“There is a traitor in the group,” he started, the others' expressions turning unanimously startled at the sudden information, “I want you to proceed, but assume the target knows our plan.”

“You want us to be test modules?” Roznal let out incredulously, obviously not pleased with the idea.

“There is no other option,” Tron replied calmly, “We are out of time to formulate an alternate plan, and even if we were able to there's little to no chance Zuse wouldn't be informed.”

“Tron is correct,” Kex agreed after a moment, eyes shifting to Roznal as he spoke.

“I guess we'll all just have to improvise,” Sam said a little smugly to the red haired program, earning him a defiant and slightly confused look, “..Make it up as we go,” he elaborated, shrugging a little. _Now improvising I can do,_ he thought briefly to himself.

Roznal only let out a resigned, low growl, turning back around to head to the elevator. “If there is no other way, so bet it.”

–----

That was a short while ago.

Sam managed to sneak onto the moving headquarters like they'd decided in the plan, surprisingly, not running into any real problems on the way. There wasn't even added Sentries in the area, no more than predicted, which was both suspicious and a relief. “I made it on board,” he half whispered into the mic in his blacked out helmet, only his mouth visible with it set into position over his face.

“Understood,” he heard Tron say, and couldn't help thinking he heard a lace of relief in the program's voice.

“Moving in from the south-”

“Moving in from the north-”

“We will be closing in on the base shortly,” Roznal and Kex reported in, and Sam could make out the sounds of the light jets' engines in the background.

“Xolla,” Tron started, “how does it look from your position?”

“The latest group of Sentries are about to clear the area, your path is clear,” Xolla replied in her own mic.

“Understood,” Tron replied simply from where he was standing in the alleyway, near where they had come up with this plan, eyes aimed in the direction of the Game Arena, “I'll move out shortly.”

Tron was the only one to stay behind. Sam had to sneak into a building and make it to the roof, Kex and Roznal had each made their way to separate building tops on opposite edges of the city, forming their light jets out of sight of the city's main masses of programs. Xolla had casually walked ahead, secretly scoping out the area on the way to the Game Arena for Tron, acting as his eyes and ears, and Loreza left to return to her Game Arena duties, dismissing herself shortly after they'd assembled outside.

–----

 _I'm not seeing anything unusual,_ Roznal thought to herself, blacked out helmet in place and red light jet angling up into the cloud's mass above, light stream deactivated, “Are you having any difficulties?” she asked into her helmet mic, switching the line of communication to a private one while leveling the jet into the center of the clouds.

“No,” Kex returned quietly, barely audible above the sound of the green circuit lit jet, already in a cloud formation of his own, light stream also deactivated.

“Think the User gave us away?” she asked a little bitterly.

“No, Tron was with him the entire time, and he wouldn't betray the group.”

“How do you know? You've only heard rumors of the program until just meeting him this cycle. I know you look up to the guy but come on. You do remember Rinzler, correct?”

Kex was quiet for a time, and Roznal was pretty sure she'd hit a circuit. The two programs had operated on several tasks together previously, Roznal dared say they were a team of sorts, not that she'd ever confess something like that aloud, it just wasn't in her programming.

“Tron is no longer Rinzler,” Kex finally returned, voice just a little louder than before.

“Just because his circuits are User friendly now doesn't mean the programming isn't still there, you know that,” Roznal replied. “I don't understand your confidence in the program,” she finally admitted with a sigh after getting no immediate reply, eyes searching through the cloud masses.

“It is for the same reason that I have confidence in you,” Kex said after a while, voice a little softer, “Your methods vary but the core of your programming emits the same density, you both fight for what you discern as correct and don't betray others along the way. Isn't that the reason you and I have paired together for so long?” he finished calmly.

She could hear the slight smile in his voice, cracking a small one of her own. “Yeah yeah. You know you can be a little too convincing when you want to be,” she half taunted back.

“As you have made me fully aware,” he returned in a slightly taunting voice of his own. 

“Closing in,” they both reported in unison to the rest of the group on the main communication line.

–----

Sam was trying his best to impersonate the Sentries, which wasn't all that difficult if he didn't have to speak. Fortunately, all he'd had to do so far was walk around stiffly with the staff the Siren had managed to snag for him, 'how' was something Sam didn't want to know. _Not questioning the ways of women,_ was all he'd thought at the time, program or not, that was a territory he planned to stay out of. “I've made it to the second level,” he whispered into his helmet mic, waiting until the passing Sentries were out of range. For the most part, it seemed none of them interacted with each other, only when they were given an order did they do anything aside from patrol the passageways. 

“Zuse and Gem should be on level three,” Xolla said in a hushed tone, “once you reach the first intersecting passageways turn left, right, left, straight, right, then straight, they'll be in the room at the end of the corridor.”

“Got it,” Sam answered, making his way to the designated area.

“Do be careful,” Xolla added, expression a little worried on the other end of the mic. She'd grown rather fond of the User, even if it was only over the course of an extremely short period of time.

“I will,” Sam replied with a slight smile, rounding a corner and spotting another patrolling Sentry up ahead, expression returning to a careful blank.

\-----

Tron was listening to the exchange quietly, eyes moving down to focus on the ground briefly. _Be careful, Sam,_ he thought to himself, glancing back up and focusing on the Game Arena. “I'm moving out,” he reported into his own blacked out helmets' mic, reaching down with a hand and pulling out one of the light cycle batons from the holster on his hip.

He didn't hesitate, quickly beginning his short run before leaping into the air, pulling the baton out in front of himself and dislodging the sides from the connecting center, a layout of blue-white circuitry darting out from the object in his hands and solidifying into the familiar vehicle, hitting the ground with a sturdy thud before taking off down the long alleyway toward the Game Arena.

–----

Roznal and Kex circled over the headquarters briefly, moving in a similar fashion to circling vultures, the streams still cut off from the back end of their jets.

“Commencing landing,” Roznal reported into the mic, the two jets gradually descending, lower, lower-

They retracted their batons and landed firmly in a crouch on top of the moving transport, slipping their batons back into the holsters on their suits before quickly moving over to the topside entrance, hunched over so as to be less air resistant.

Kex managed to work the hatch open, letting Roznal slip inside before following suit, grabbing the underside of the hatch with both hands and closing it shut with his weight, sealing it with a couple fingers before dropping down onto the passageway floor with a soft and quiet thud.

“All clear,” Roznal said in a hushed tone to the green circuitry lit program, “We've entered level three,” she reported into the mic, pulling the layout up on a small circuit near her wrist. She motioned to Kex silently with a hand, motioning for him to follow her down the left hallway. He only gave an acknowledging nod in response, moving quickly but silently behind.

They stopped shortly after, however, when three Sentries rounded the end of the corner, immediately halting at the end of the hall.

They only paused briefly, Roznal reaching back for her disc and the digital blade at her side, Kex following suit and grabbing his own disc.

The two charged forward in a rush.

\-----

 _Almost there,_ Sam thought to himself, moving almost painstakingly slow to keep up his disguise.

 _Remember,_ he heard Tron say in his head, a memory from the alley, _as soon as the light cycle hits the arena Zuse and Gem will know something is out of place, you must all reach your positions before hand if we are to intercept their escape routes._

 _Come on, come on,_ he thought again as he rounded the last corner, coming to a stop as he reached the final hall, _this is it._ He almost grinned to himself, but something caught his attention in his peripheral vision, half turning before the door at the end of the hall suddenly opened, automatically pulling his attention back. “What-” he started, before something slammed into the back of his neck, cutting him off.

Sam fell forward, vaguely aware of the sound of voices and his own body hitting the corridor floor. All he could think was .. _shit,_ before everything went black.

\-----

“I told you he'd be coming straight to us,” chimed Zuse, now standing over the unconscious User, helmet retracting with a light tap of the end of his light cane.

“So you did,” Gem replied in an unamused tone, stoic expression in place as always. 

“Take him to the room boys, we have some catching up to do,” he ordered, leading the way back to the large room with the Siren at his side, the Sentries dragging Sam along by his arms.

–----

Tron was weaving through more back alleyways and scarcely populated streets, stream of blue-white light trailing behind, quickly arriving upon the break of buildings to the clearing surrounding the Game Arena. He managed to catch sight of a small, yellow circuited figure as he left the cover of the buildings, speeding across the wide stretch of open space, revving the cycle up and increasing its speed.

 _Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen,_ he mentally counted down, speeding the light cycle up just a bit more, nine, eight, seven. He jerked back once he reached the edge of the arena, pulling the front end of the light cycle up just enough to seamlessly line up with a ramp, now quickly reaching and speeding up one of the large, angled roofs of the arena, catching sight of the floating transport. Two..one..zero, he finished, shifting the cycle to its highest speed before it jumped off of the arena's roof ledge, aimed straight for the mobile fortress. _One..zero,_ he counted down again, shifting his position on the light cycle to stand on the seat, leaping off of it at the end of the count, arms stretched out above him.

His hands stretched, fingers quickly curling around anything, everything they could once he was close enough to his target, finally latching on to a bar next to the bottom entrance as the light cycle plummeted down towards the Game Arena. Tron hung there briefly before pulling himself up and reaching over, opening the hatch with a hand while his arm hooked itself over the bar.

 _He actually made it,_ Xolla thought with wide eyes, the light cycle hitting the ground below and erupting into an explosion of blue and white pixelated mass. 

She did her best not to let out any triumphant sounds, practically vibrating where she stood.

Tron shifted and grasped the opening's edge with both hands, pulling himself up and flipping inside, pausing briefly after landing to crouch down and close the hatch behind him. “I've entered the first floor,” he reported into the mic, quickly rising to his feet and running silently down the long hall.

–----

The red and green programs alternated as they ran, switching sides of the hall as more Sentries closed in on them, staffs already in motion.

 _Again!_ Roznal thought to herself, throwing her disc at one of the Sentries closing in on her side of the passageway, only to have the Sentry block it and lunge towards her, dodging as she switched sides with Kex. She caught her disc and leaped up, jumping over the widely swung weapon and above the new Sentry before her, shifting her weight as she dropped down, boot slamming into the top of the program's helmet, toppling him over. She didn't waste any time, bringing her disc down quickly and roughly, forcing it through the blacked out helmet, derezzing the program. _There's too many.._ she trailed off in thought to herself, jolted out of her thoughts by a disc skimming her lower back. 

The red circuited program twisted quickly, gritting her teeth as the pain shot through her sensors, hurling her disc at the third Sentry behind her, derezzing it simultaneously with Kex's green lit disc. 

Kex hurried over to her, pulling her to her feet with a strong grip on her arm. “Damage,” he demanded, eyes focused on the program.

“Minor. I'll manage,” she gritted out, shrugging out of the green program's grasp, “Continue,” she ordered after a moment, turning to continue their way down the new hall, Kex following behind momentarily.

–----

Tron spiraled in the air, avoiding two discs as he wielded his own, gripping them close to his chest in the spin before bringing them down diagonally into the two Sentry's chests as he landed, red pixels layering the ground behind his crouched form. “Status,” he demanded into his mic, twisting up suddenly to behead a third Sentry behind him, derezzing the program.

“Minor damage, proceeding to target area,” he heard Kex reply on the other end as he ran, rounding another corner on the second floor, angling up into the third.

“The ground level Sentry squads are closing off the area,” now came Xolla's voice, “investigation of the crashed light cycle is commencing.”

 _Left, right, left, straight,_ his memory repeated Xolla's instructions from earlier, running down the long hall of the third level.

“Sam,” he said into his mic.

No response.

“Sam?” he asked after a moment, rounding the right side corner, another set of Sentries at the end of the new hall, pausing briefly before they began running in his direction, staffs aimed with one hand, retrieving their discs with the other.

“Sam?” he said a little louder, worry beginning to weave through his circuits, “Can you hear me? Sam!” The security program quickly dodged the discs, twisting and flipping over them at an angle before bringing his discs down against two of the Sentry's staffs, kicking the third square in the chest, the program skidding down the hall on its back. Tron quickly deflected the oncoming discs, keeping them from their owners and plunging one disc into a Sentry's chest, the other up into the second Sentry's jaw, derezzing the two programs, ducking below the third Sentry's lunge, ramming both of his discs into its' waist, derezzing it shortly after the others.

“Sam!” he called out again, straightening after still only getting silence on the other end, eyes finding their way to the large doors at the end of the hall. He stared for a moment, gripping his discs a little tighter at his sides before he started to make his way down the hall, eyes focused intently on the doors. 

Roznal and Kex soon rounded the corner left corner behind him, catching sight of the security program and picking up their pace to catch up, slowing once they'd reached his sides.

“They have the User?” Roznal asked, her free hand gripping her side nearest to the pain in her lower back.

Tron just gave a slow nod after a moment, the three programs closing in on the doors. 

Once they reached a close proximity to the entryway, the doors slid open, Tron's eyes widening behind his mask at the sight they found.


	8. Traitorous

**Traitorous**

****

“Mmm...” was the first sound he made, his body shifting slightly as he began to stir, eyelids slowly opening as black gradually shifted to neon, ceiling circuits stark in the dim lighting of the room. Sam slowly sat up, resting back on a hand on the digital surface he was on as the other found its way to the back of his neck, rubbing gently at the sore area with a palm. “What the hell..” he mumbled, lifting his head up a bit more as his vision started to clear, trying to get a better look at his surroundings.

“It seems that our guest has awakened,” he heard sharply off to his right, recognizing the voice and somehow finding himself hoping he'd never have to hear it again.

The User twisted towards the source of the words, closing his eyes tightly once before opening them, vision clearing that much more, the sight before him taking a moment for him to process. “Zuse..” his voice finally supplied, expression turning from confused to displeased, eyes darting to his left at the other flash of white in his peripheral vision. “Did you really have to hit me so hard,” he grumbled after his eyes had found the Siren, returning to the other program.

“Of course we did,” Zuse replied cheerily, tone dropping to false sincerity as he continued, “There was no other choice. Otherwise you would have come in here, disc flying and all! And that we just can't have.” The program was standing in front of the large, one panel window, the glowing city and clouds filled with lightning stretching out behind, the portal light shining off in the distance.

Sam's eyes focused on it, maybe just a little too long.

Zuse turned slightly to look over his shoulder, following the User's line of sight, turning back with a smug look of recognition on his face. “Ah yes, your time here is limited, isn't it. The clock must be ticking away. Tick, tick, tick,” he said casually, emphasizing his words with a pendulum-like swing of his cane, “And, naturally, your next thought would be about where that little souvenir of your father's went. Well, not too worry, I'll save you the trouble,” he finished, lifting his cane to point off to his right, the end of the program's signature tool aimed at a lit case on the other side of the room, something resembling a fragment encased inside.

Sam's eyes followed it gradually, acknowledgment settling in once his eyes found their target. “So that's it..” he said quietly, more so to himself than the two accompanying programs, rising to his feet slowly, off of the temporary digital, flat mattress-like object he'd been set on, the structure breaking down into pixels once he broke contact and was on his feet.

“Indeed it is,” Zuse replied anyway, “Fascinating little piece of equipment. It has the most interesting bits of information on it. Though, we are of course unable to fully utilize all of its functions.”

 _This guy sure does like hearing himself talk,_ Sam couldn't help thinking, eyes shifting to the Siren briefly before returning back to the subject of his mind's musings. She didn't seem all that amused, either.

“Which is where _you_ come in,” Zuse finished, an expectant smile on his face.

The Users' attention fully focused on the program at the words, expression turning defiant with a look that said _'like hell'_. 

“Now, now, don't look at me that way,” Zuse said lightly, moving over after a moment, “Now, I'm not a forceful program by design,” he continued, raising his cane once he was close enough and pressing the end against Sam's chest, “but, as you may have noticed, Gem and I could use a little..'touching up', which requires a User. ..Or in this instance, requires _you_.”

Sam's jaw clenched but he kept quiet, eyes darting down at the cane before returning to the program's face, not liking where this was going. _Great, so it's either help the player program or get a hole in the chest,_ he thought sarcastically to himself, _which I could definitely do without._

It was only after Zuse had mentioned it and moved closer that Sam really noticed the damage he was talking about. Zuse's left leg and arm looked like they had been patched together, functional but not what they once were. There were faint gashes on his face and hands that looked like they'd also been covered over, or that he'd attempted to cover and repair them himself. Gem wasn't fairing any better when his eyes finally switched over to look at her. When she turned her head to look back at him, he could see a large portion of one side of her face was distorted, the color altered in a sickly way, one of her eyes lacking a pupil, instead all white. Part of her torso, from what he could see with where he was at and how she was sitting was also damaged. It seemed like she'd taken the brunt of whatever had caused it all.

“I see what you mean,” Sam said slowly after a moment, eyes shifting back up to the program in front of him, “Still doesn't mean I plan on helping you, especially not after what you did the _last_ time we met,” he tried instead. Probably not the wisest way to go about things when he was basically held at gunpoint, but he meant every word of it.

“Oh, you're not still upset about _that_ are you?” Zuse said, feigning sincerity once again, “I only did what I had to in order to survive. ..Just like I'm forced to do now.”

Sam didn't see it coming, not in the least. Zuse lifted his cane quickly, swinging it down at an angle across the User's face, Sam half falling over with the force of the sudden blow.

He could taste the blood forming in his mouth.

The User groaned quietly to himself, reaching up with a hand and rubbing at his jaw, eyes glaring back up at the program.

“Our other guests will be arriving soon,” Zuse said nonchalantly, “you wouldn't want them to see you in a worse state, now would you?” he taunted, motioning with his free hand at something Sam hadn't noticed until they stepped forward.

Six Black Guard programs seemed to practically emerge from the dark areas of the room, stepping forward to form an even, wide circle around the User and his captor.

 _Surrounded huh? I really need to work on my observation skills,_ Sam thought, almost sighing until he noticed the daring smirk on Zuse's face. 

Sam just smirked defiantly back after a moment.

Zuse brought his cane down again.

\-----

The doors slid open, and what Tron saw brought about an unprecedented urge in his circuitry. 

A violent one.

“Sam-!” he yelled out, mask folding back, revealing blue-gray eyes staring intently at the hunched over figure on the floor on his hands and knees, eyes immediately taking note of the small, rarely seen puddle of red liquid pooled on the floor, as well as the smeared drops surrounding the User.

He immediately started running forward, but Zuse's cane interrupted his line of sight, the blood stained end settling at Sam's neck, the blue-white glow coming out a sickly shade of yellow under the coated substance. “Ah-ah-ah,” the program said lightly, causing Tron to stop dead in his tracks, fingers tightening firmly around the discs in his hands, “If you want him to keep his pretty little head, I suggest you do what he should have done and play nice.”

The security program grit his teeth, combining his discs slowly after a few moments and, reluctantly, putting them back in place on his back, easing up a bit from his defensive stance, eyes glaring at the white program across the room. 

“Good,” Zuse said cheerily, angling Sam's head up with the end of his cane.

Sam coughed a couple times, the taste of blood stinging the back of his throat, forcing his eyes open to look across the gap of space. “Hey,” he said somewhat quietly, voice rough, “Sorry guys. They caught me,” he half joked, forcing a small, half smile onto his face.

“Sam-” Tron said urgently, expression openly shifting to worry before quickly turning to anger, eyes returning to Zuse.

“What did you do to him?!” The security program demanded, doing his best to remain in place.

Roznal was a little surprised at the scene before her, eyes just a little wide before they focused on Zuse as he spoke, trying to keep her thought processes objective. 

Kex's expression was carefully impassive, as always, though a little more intensely focused than Sam remembered ever seeing it in the short time since he'd met the program.

“We just had a little chat about him repairing our code,” Zuse said lightly, “I think we've come to an understanding, yes?” Zuse glanced down at the User in front of him, Sam responding with a stubborn but somewhat resigned stare, eyes glancing over and up at the program. “Yes, I think we did,” Zuse concluded for himself, eyes glancing over at the Siren, “If you would?” he asked out.

Gem finally rose from her seat, not as lithely as she once moved, Sam could tell her movements were a little strained even from his peripheral vision. She walked over in slightly unsteady but calculated steps, reaching up after she'd stopped in front of the lit case and sliding a couple fingers along the top front edge, the lid shifting back and granting her access to the fragment inside. The Siren reached in with a hand and retrieved the source of so much of the commotion, turning and calmly making her way over to Zuse's side, standing on the other side of Sam.

“Much appreciated,” Zuse said with a pleased smile, taking the fragment from Gem with his free hand and holding it up slightly. “There was a bit of information we came across on here during our investigation that mentioned Flynn's ability to repair programs with a simple touch of sorts,” he started, eyes glancing at the three programs just inside the room's entrance before shifting down to the User, “Care to show us how,” he demanded more than asked, the signs of his patience wearing thin becoming more and more obvious. 

He was tired of being incomplete. _Damaged._

Tron's memory banks were racing, an earlier memory suddenly retrieved. 

_“User power..”_

_“Whatever it was, it worked!”_

_“Sam- Sam. Sam? Are you alright?”_

_“I.. ..Yeah, I just felt a little dizzy.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yeah, I just got up too fast, that's all. Just a head rush.”_

Tron's eyes widened just a bit, suspicion arising and worry deeply embedded in his circuits. _But it wasn't just that, was it,_ he thought after a moment, fear becoming more and more present in his chest. He opened his mouth quickly, about to try and intervene in what was about to happen, before his suspicions became true, before something possibly irreversible came to pass, but he was cut off as the User's hands reached up after a moment as the two program's own hands were offered down to him, grasping Gem's and Zuse's wrists firmly, grudgingly, the fragment glowing with a blinding white light at the connection.

Sam's circuitry shifted up from red to a blinding white in a sudden wave, the white programs quickly engulfed in the flood of light, their expressions filled with surprise and awe. The User's eyes widened, eyes glowing a faint blue before quickly escalating to a glowing white, matching his circuits. _It's too much-!_ were Sam's only thoughts as an overwhelming surge of energy rushed through his circuits, and he could have sworn his skin was _burning_ with the sudden surge of energy, the heat of it all.

As the room whited out in a sudden burst of blinding light, Sam's mouth opened, and he couldn't hold back the scream that clawed its way out of his throat.

–----

Tron wasn't sure when it happened, he couldn't see, he couldn't see _anything_ for what felt like a thousand more cycles, but when he could start to make out the objects in the room, the figures across from him, his eyes could only focus on Sam, who was no longer upright but laying on the floor. His head was turned so that half of his face was pressed to the reflective surface, a red stream of liquid trailing out of the corner of his mouth, eyes closed, and his circuits were..

_Weren't._

They _weren't_ glowing.

They weren't emitting any energy at all.

For the briefest moment, or maybe it was the longest, Tron felt like his own circuitry had ceased with it, eyes staring intently at the User on the floor.

_...Sam._

Zuse and Gem were repaired, spotless even, looked like they'd never been injured a cycle in their lives, but Tron didn't care, didn't even really register the fact.

“What happened-” Roznal started, eyes trying to adjust quickly to the new light levels in the room, Kex mirroring her confused expression.

But Tron cut her off, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing dangerously, pulling his discs off his back with inhuman speed and rushing forward, a disc in each hand. For the first time in a long time, he yelled. It came out rough, his vocal coding unaccustomed to the strain, but he did it anyway, closing the distance between himself and Zuse in record time, and if it weren't for the Black Guard that had been ever watchful, Zuse's head would have been derezzed off of his shoulders with that same inhuman speed.

The Black Guard managed to block the attack, but it crippled slightly under the force of the security programs' blow, Tron quickly derezzing it with a swing of his other disc, burying it deep into the program's chest at a diagonal angle before it fell to red pixelated sections and scattered across the floor.

–----

Zuse was shocked, to say the least, dropping the fragment of Flynn's disc during the commotion. “All fixed, time to go!” he said quickly with wide eyes locked in Tron's predatory glare, the rest of the Black Guards finally rushing in to deal with the threat. Zuse motioned to Gem who followed him, hurriedly trying to make it to a hidden exit, but were quickly cut off by red and green circuitry.

“Where do you think you're going? We have a score to settle,” Roznal let out, taking a stance in front of the two white programs, Kex mirroring the motions.

“It was all only in order to-” Zuse started, but was cut off by a rough shove from behind, his feet automatically moving a few steps forward, stumbling slightly as he tried to turn around and comprehend what had just happened.

“- to survive,” Gem finished for him, a hand positioned out in front of her.

“What are you doi-” Zuse started, wide eyed, face filled with shock and confusion. But, he was cut off again as a red and green disc came down into his shoulders, tearing through his chest and down to his waist in fast, forced movements before he finally derezzed, pixelating into white pieces that fell and scattered across the floor, cane landing next to the mess with a clang.

Roznal and Kex stood up from their braced positions, eyes darting to the Siren before them. “Your business is finished,” she said calmly, moving down quickly in one swift movement to grab the light cane, aiming it up and into Kex's chest as he moved to attack her, disc pausing in mid-swing at the new pressure. “Your business is _finished_ ,” Gem repeated firmly, holding the cane steadily in place.

“Kex-!” Roznal let out, gritting her teeth behind him.

“Not until you are removed from your seat of power,” Kex returned stiffly, unmoving, “power must be returned to the military.”

“What?” Roznal asked incredulously, “What are you talking about? We came here to take down _Zuse_!”

“No!” Kex shouted, taking the red circuited program by surprise, “ _You_ came here to take down Zuse, I came to give power where it was always meant to be! The military should be in charge of the Grid!,” he half yelled, eyes focused intently on the Siren in front of him. 

For once, Gem smirked. “Unlikely,” was all she said before firing the light cane, a burst of light colliding with the program's chest, derezzing him on the spot with a distorted yell. Kex quickly fell into green pixelation bits, scattering to the floor with the clang of his disc.

“Kex!” Roznal yelled, eyes wide. “You-!” she started, but the light cane shifted to her, stopping her in her tracks. 

“Not unless you want to end up the same way,” Gem said firmly, expression returned to its stoic facade.

Roznal hesitated, and it was long enough. Gem swung the cane hard with inhuman force across the red circuited program's face, knocking her unconscious as she hit the floor. 

White eyes returned to the still User and enraged security program.

–----

He couldn't think, every move seemed to come on its own, automatic responses to the Black Guard's attacks. Tron twisted, leaped, flipped, turned, all a series of actions that had been put to use for over a thousand cycles and in multiple systems, practiced to perfection over time. He brought a disc down into one of the Guards' helmets, ducking low as he turned to plunge both discs into anothers' abdomen, derezzing one quickly after the other. The last three moved to surround him, so he moved quickly, rushing one to send a foot to its' waist before twisting around and avoiding two simultaneous staff lunges, forcing them down with two even blows of his elbows before hurling his discs at the two Black Guards on each side, the discs flying through their necks and derezzing them simultaneously. 

He caught the returning discs as he jumped, leaping forward, above the last Black Guard's disc aimed for his own chest before landing on the programs' shoulders, flipping forward and landing on his feet behind it after slicing deep into its' back with both of his discs during the spin, the Black Guard pixelating and shattering as it hit the ground behind him.

Tron only paused briefly before turning quickly, running over to the User collapsed on the floor, combining his discs and placing them roughly into position on his back before dropping to his knees next to Sam, hands reaching out but stopping just short of touching him, unsure about what to do, almost afraid to make physical contact. “Sam? Sam!” he tried, finally reaching down after not getting a reply, gripping his shoulder and waist gently to turn him over, the User's back resting on top of Tron's knees, the weight a brief comfort, but only grounding him at the lack of energy that should be coursing through the Users' circuitry. “SAM!” he yelled, shaking the User gently at first, then a little more roughly, eyes searching Sam's face for any response, _anything_. 

Nothing.

He didn't notice the Siren had made her way over, stopping just beside him.

“His circuits could not handle the amount of energy linked through the release,” she said calmly, bending down and picking up the stray fragment just a little off to the side, kneeling down next to the security program after a moment and setting the cane down onto the reflective surface of the floor, “Check his disc.”

Tron didn't bother looking at her, only shifting Sam gently onto his side long enough to retrieve the disc on his back, resting the User's body back against his lap as he tried to activate the identity projection.

Nothing happened.

His brow drew together in frustration and confusion, trying to activate it a few more times.

“It is as I said then,” she confirmed after a moment, hand moving into Tron's line of sight, holding up the fragment for him to take. “Merge it,” she instructed, Tron's eyes finally glancing up to meet hers.

“What will it..” he trailed off, a hint of hope coming into his eyes amidst all of the anger and worry, and unexpected _pain_ , “Will this..” he tried again, but couldn't finish the sentence.

“I do not know for sure,” Gem answered, the fragment still held up in the space between Tron's face and Sam's disc, “Are you willing to try?”

Tron's eyes shifted down to the small object, taking it quickly after a moment and letting his eyes quickly scan over the surface of Sams' disc, finally deciding to just connect a sharp corner piece in between one of the discs' panels.

The fragment glowed with another blinding white light, the energy surging through and lighting up all of the discs' circuitry. It glowed, brighter, brighter-

Until Tron's visual input couldn't handle the amount of light, closing his eyes tightly and turning his head away slightly as it escalated into one final burst of blinding white light, the disc itself heating up in his grasp with the massive amount of new energy.

But he didn't dare let it go.

He looked back after a moment, the light dimming down behind his eyelids before he opened them, face returning forward to look over the disc once more.

Tron was stunned at what he saw. 

The disc had a new set of circuitry layered over it, intricate white patterns lacing around both sides, engraved in the black sections of the Users' disc. 

The security program only stopped to stare at it for a moment, blinking once before his expression turned a mix of determined, hopeful and cautions, gently shifting Sam back onto his side and hesitantly, carefully setting the disc back into position on his back, moving back slightly as he set the User back down, back now laying on the ground.

Nothing happened.

Not at first.

Tron was about to open his mouth and ask, or demand, answers from the Siren. But, then, suddenly a light shot through the User's circuitry, lighting up _everything_ , and Sam's body jolted, back arching sharply against the floor, tensing, hands instinctively trying to grip, claw desperately at the floor. Sam's eyes shot open soon after, irises and pupils glowing white as the same intricate design that had formed on the disc surfaced on his suit, _on his skin_ , in his eyes, mouth opening in a silent scream. 

Everything went white.


	9. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhh. First time writing circuitry fondling. You've been warned. For both reasons.

**Return  
**

_“Sam!”_

He couldn't see anything, but he could hear something-

_“SAM!”_

Louder. Familiar. Like a dream he couldn't quite remember, couldn't quite put his finger on.

_“Sam, can you hear me?”_

His eyes shot open, sitting up suddenly, and somehow he forgot how to _breathe_. 

There were hands immediately on his shoulders, trying to push him back down, but he didn't want to go back down, back into the dark, back into the silence. It was like an abyss he couldn't get out of, couldn't walk, couldn't run, jump, swim, nothing could make him move there. All he could do was be still, and for some reason his father's voice found its way into his head.

_“You're messing with my Zen thing, man.”_

“You're messing with my Zen thing,” his mouth let out, seemingly of its own accord, the hands on his shoulders pausing, tightening their grip, and finally he remembered how to breathe, hell, how to blink for that matter. He glanced over to his left, a strangely familiar face coming into view. “Tron..” he said quietly, distantly, blinking back at the program's intense but somehow blank stare, “Did I..just say that out loud?” Sam's expression turned a little confused, a little embarrassed, disbelieving. And he wasn't sure why, but Tron just smiled after a moment.

For some reason, Sam forgot how to breathe again.

Before he knew it, the program was pulling him close, arms wrapping around the back of his shoulders, holding him just a little too tight than was humanly possible. “Tron..?” he asked after a moment, face heating up, “Is something wrong?” 

“You're alright,” he heard quietly next to his ear, expression turning confused as he tried to remember why he _wouldn't_ be alright. 

“Yeah, why wouldn't I-” he started, but cut off as the memories came rushing back, filling in some of the gaps. Sam reached up after a moment, gripping the programs' upper arms and trying to force him back a little, expression urgent. “What happened to Zuse and Gem?”

Tron didn't seem to want to put any distance between them, but he did, reluctantly sitting back after a moment and shifting his hands to rest back on the Users' shoulders, unsure if he should actually be sitting up on his own so soon. “Roznal and Kex derezzed Zuse with Gem's aid. Kex turned on Gem and ended up getting derezzed by her in the process,” Tron answered, “She gave me the fragment, which I merged with your disc. You weren't moving, Sam, your circuits were completely off. I couldn't..” he trailed off, eyes finding their way to the ground, “..but it worked,” he finished, eyes eventually shifting over to the Siren off to his right.

Sam followed his line of sight after a moment, glancing at the program in white before his eyes returned to Tron, trying to absorb his words.

Then the pain hit.

Sam winced sharply before he could say anything, turning in on himself as a hand released the program, wrapping around his waist futilely, drawing his knees a little towards his chest as he hunched over, head hanging. “Ahhhn-” he let out, voice strained, the hand still on Tron gripping his arm tightly.

“Sam-” Tron said almost immediately, worry flooding his face and filling his voice, moving closer to the User and gripping his shoulders firmly, “What is it?”

“..Shar..sharp pain..Augh- I feel like I got hit in the stomach with a wrecking ball-” he struggled to get out.

Gem returned to her previous position at Tron's side then, kneeling down close to the two. “Energy build up,” she said calmly after a moment, “The Creator's disc has more energy than his system is currently capable of holding.” She moved after a moment, shifting to kneel down behind Sam, reaching up shortly to the top of his shoulder blades, pressing her fingertips to his overheated and bright circuits, sliding them firmly down to his lower back, Tron's eyes watching her intently.

Sam jerked, head lifting a bit as he let out a strangled sound at the sudden, overwhelming wave of pleasure rippling through his circuits, face flushing lightly. One of his legs shifted to the ground, his hand still gripping the security program's arm tightly. _What-what the hell.._ he tried to think, which was becoming increasingly hard.

Tron sat up quickly, a hand releasing one of Sam's shoulders and darting over to the Siren, grabbing one of her wrists firmly. “What are you doing?” he demanded, watching the female program intently.

“This is the quickest possible way to release the extra energy,” Gem replied calmly, “he cannot contain it and we are running out of time. Would you rather do it?” she finished, angling her head up slightly at the other program.

Tron's face lit up, eyes widening before darting down to the side at the question, then finally making their way back up to Sam's face, brow drawing together. He released the Siren's wrist after a moment, also releasing the User's other shoulder before prying Sam's grip from his arm, the Siren moving out of the way as Tron shifted into position behind him. “I'm sorry,” he said a little quietly next to his ear, hands moving down to the User's sides and gripping firmly, pulling him up and back gently so that Sam's back is resting against his front, sitting back on his knees to support his weight. 

“What are..” Sam tried, unable to form a full sentence. His mind was foggy, fuzzy at the edges with the excess energy and brief moment of pleasure, and his body just felt too _hot_ , like he had a fever. His circuits were glowing too bright, at least that much he knew.

Tron wrapped an arm around the User, just below his chest, tensing his body a bit to brace for sudden movements before he reached down with a hand, hesitating for a moment before pressing a couple fingertips to the circular circuitry near Sam's hip, tracing over it firmly but slowly, Sam's circuits flaring in response.

The User jerked at the wave of pleasure that shot up through him at the touch, letting out a heavy gasp while shifting his other leg down to sit up onto his knees, back arching, trying to press up further into the touch. The back of his head moved up slightly to rest on Tron's shoulder, leaning it back. One of his arms moved up on the same side as the one the program had wrapped around him, gripping the back of his hand in his own while his free hand found its way to Tron's thigh, needing to grip _something_ , fingers straining over the rough, black material of the program's suit. “What are you..what is-” he tried to get out between panting breaths, nails dragging against Tron's suit, other fingertips running over the circuits on his hand firmly.

Tron let out a low gasp of his own next to Sam's ear as his circuits briefly flared, a wave of pleasure shooting through his own body at the touch, closing his mouth firmly for a moment as he pressed his fingertips to one of the long lines of circuitry running down the side of the front of the Users' suit, tracing the length of it up from his hip to just below his collarbone, earning him another, louder moan from the subject of his attention and another increase in the glow of the white lights on Sam's suit. “Trying to release..your excess energy. There's too much-” he was cut off, Sam's hand pixelating the part of the suit beneath his touch, revealing violet circuitry laced over his thigh, the Users' fingertips and dull fingernails raking over it, the circuits glowing at the stimulation and sending a stronger wave of energy through the circuitry under his suit. Tron let out a low moan of his own near Sam's ear, grip tightening around him reflexively. 

Sam almost couldn't stand it anymore, the energy was building up so quickly, everything was so hot, his own body, the one behind him that was supporting his own, the circuits underneath his hand and his fingers, his _own_ circuits. It was all becoming _too much_ , and he felt like he was about to overload-

Tron's fingers dragged firmly up the line of circuitry in the middle of his chest, and Sam's back went sharply taut, and he finally _did_ overload, letting out a loud moan near the program's ear as he gripped Tron's thigh, his circuits flaring in a blinding white light, taking his mind with it.

He wasn't even aware that he called out Tron's name.

The released energy shot straight through him where Sam's hand was tightly gripped on his thigh, running through the violet circuitry beneath his suit and overloading his own circuits. Tron let out a moan of his own next to Sam's ear in the form of the Users' name, returning the call while gripping him tightly as his own circuits flared brightly, bound to leave bruises after the ordeal, his thoughts whiting out with the intense energy release.

–----

They stayed still for the longest time, Sam's back finally relaxing out of its strained position, resting back limply against the program behind him who was hunched over slightly, formed perfectly to the bow of Sam's exhausted body, their circuits seeming to pulsate in a unison rhythm until gradually evening out into a steady, calm glow.

All Sam could hear for the longest time were breaths, his own drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears, _Tron's_ breathing next to his ear, and for a while he didn't seem to mind. Couldn't bring himself to do anything but listen, soak it in, even find it increasingly relaxing. He couldn't move immediately anyway, even if he wanted to. 

The new, intricate white designs were revealed on his suit, on his skin, matching the new ones on his disc and splayed out for the program to see. _Beautiful_..he couldn't help thinking, half lidded blue-gray eyes tracing over the patterns idly as he held the User in his arms, grip lessened but still firmly in place. And they were beautiful, but he found he couldn't stop staring at the ones on Sam's face, imprinted up and over his closed eyelids, running into his hairline and lined down across the side of his face, trailing down his neck and disappearing into the top of his suit. He'd never seen anything like it, was sure he never would again.

“You two sure are a sight to see,” came a familiar voice, one they'd both forgotten was even in the room. 

Tron didn't have to look to know that she had an amused smirk quirking up the corner of her lips.

Sam didn't move, but his eyelids finally started to open, eyes glancing over at the Siren half lidded, giving her a tiring and slightly confused look. 

“I've already set in the coordinates for the portal. We are over the Sea of Simulation now,” Gem said after a moment, “We will be arriving shortly.” The Siren stood, summoning a few more Black Guards to the room, instructing them to carry out the still unconscious, red circuited program, dragging her out of the room to who knows where.

Sam couldn't really bring himself to think about it, let alone ask.

–----

The small, rectangular device hadn't wrung since that first time, didn't even vibrate, and Quorra found herself fully relieved at the fact. She even managed to get back to being engrossed in her book, when she wasn't checking the timer on the desk.

Her eyes darted back down to the timer on the flat tabletop, leaning slightly over her book to check the remaining time. 

_You're running out of time Sam,_ she thought to herself, starting to become a little worried.

–----

Alan was at Sam's new apartment, the only sound on the other side of the door being Marvin's nails on the hard surface floor. He'd left the office a little while ago and had already checked most of the usual places Sam might be. _If he's not at any of those, I can't get a hold of his room mate Quorra, then I have a feeling that only leaves one real place left to check,_ he thought calmly to himself, making his way back to his car, _that old arcade._

And so, he made his way down to the more abandoned part of the city, pulling up next to the curb outside of the old arcade doors, putting the car in park, cutting the engine, and stepping out, walking over to the old, familiar entrance. 

He could almost see the crowds that used to fill the place.

\-----

Tron finally lifted his head, a little reluctantly, eyes glancing over at the Siren with slight suspicion, but keeping quiet, eyes returning to the User after a moment. The intricate circuits were starting to fade back into his skin, hidden from the rest of the Grid. It made him feel a twinge of regret in his own circuits, knowing he'd more than likely never see them again, eyes closing slightly at the thought, but trying to commit each and every line to memory.

Sam couldn't bring himself to look up, even though he could feel his cheeks lighting up slightly at the attention he knew was on his face. He was reluctant to move, somehow didn't want to break whatever moment they were currently in. Things felt different between them now, somehow, and moving meant that would become reality, and he just didn't know what to do past that. But, he did get up after a few moments, releasing his grip on the program behind him and starting to sit up, Tron's fingers ghosting over his suit as they released their hold on him, allowing the motion. 

Tron watched as Sam gradually made his way to his feet, form slightly hunched, exhausted looking, and he soon followed suit.

The portal light was growing closer, illuminating the room through the large, main window. Sam couldn't say anything, not even the fact that he noticed that the room's lights had gone out. _Probably happened when.._ he trailed off in thought, color tinting his cheeks lightly.

Things were definitely different between them now, made the air around them heavy, filled with the words that neither of them was willing to say. 

_I basically..just had sex with Tron, didn't I.._ he thought again, forcing his eyes to stay on the portal ahead, _**Tron**. Of all people. ..programs. Whatever. **Tron**. What am I supposed to say to that? What am I supposed to do? I can't even look at him now without thinking about-_ He cut his own trail of thought off, facing heating up a bit more. His eyes glanced over at the program quickly, a little surprised to find him staring off at the portal, but not shocked. _He probably wants me to leave as soon as possible now that things feel so damn awkward.. Not that I really blame him.._ he trailed off in thought, eyes finding their way to the floor before returning to the program next to him, widening a little in surprise to find blue-gray eyes staring back at him now, something distant in his look, something-

“We've arrived,” the Siren's voice cut off his thoughts, drawing both of their attention to the program in white, and Sam somehow couldn't help feeling slightly relieved, “follow me.”

Sam hesitated briefly but did follow, Tron eventually following suit, eyes glancing over at the sea of light filling the large window before returning to the circuitry on Sam's back ahead of him.

–----

The walk to the portal itself seemed to happen all too fast, but somehow still so slow. The remaining, on board Sentries and Black Guard let them pass at Gem's command, _more like the flick of her fingers,_ his mind corrected a little sarcastically. She still had Zuse's cane, something he was sure he'd be glad not to see anymore once he was back in his own world. _Away from the Grid.._ his mind trailed off, shivering faintly at the memory of Tron's breath near his ear, the _sound_ of it, his face heating up once more. He still couldn't look at him, especially not directly in the eye, he just.. _couldn't_. He wasn't really sure what to make of what had happened between the two of them. _Not the time to think about it,_ he thought to himself, forcing his attention back to the task at hand.

They reached the portal soon enough. He hadn't looked or talked to Tron during the entire way there, but could feel the program behind him, keeping a slight distance but always staying close, _in case of some unexpected attack,_ Sam presumed. Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, Loreza was waiting at the entrance for them, stoic expression in place. _So it was her,_ Sam concluded, raising an eyebrow at her small, amused smile as he passed the Siren, still not sure what to make of the program.

Tron's thought process was in chaos the whole walk there, yet somehow a complete blank, filled with Sam's breath, voice, touch, _energy_ , yet completely blank with what to do about it. He didn't know what to do, about any of it, what happened between them, everything that lead up to them getting on Zuse and Gem's headquarters, and now Sam leaving the Grid again, except this time here was here for it. And suddenly, it seemed, they were on the narrow pathway connecting to the portal, beam of light radiating a few feet in front of them, and it was all just happening _too fast_ for him. As fast as he knew his processing was, he felt like he didn't have near enough time to _think_ about _any_ of it. 

Gem had stopped next to Loreza once they'd reached her, giving the other Siren a brief nod of acknowledgment and a small, knowing smile as they watched whatever was about to come to pass, well, come to pass.

Tron wasn't sure if he should be so close to the portal, but he couldn't stop himself from following the User, didn't want to leave his orbit, didn't really want him to _go_ , even though that had been his main task since the User arrived in the Game Arena. Too long had the Grid lacked the guiding presence of a User, and he'd grown used to having Sam nearby in their short time together, like he'd once been used to having Flynn nearby with his constant visits to the Grid, albeit this was a little a different.

“Sam,” Tron let out without even realizing it, surprised at his own actions.

Sam stopped at the sound of the now familiar voice saying his name, pausing in his tracks almost instantly. He fought to get here, the portal was just half a foot away, and yet that voice was the only real thing in his mind, subsiding the pressing urge to go back, to go _home_. He started walking again after a moment, stepping into the radiant waves of light. Sam retrieved the disc from his back, lifting it above his head with both hands and letting it gradually drift up into the pillar of light before finally turning around to look at the program.

He was surprised at what he saw.

Tron's expression was calm, determined, things Sam knew his own expression wasn't.

“You can come back,” the program said after a moment, voice certain.

Sam's eyes glanced down and off to the side, unsure of what to think about the option, what to do. _But **should** I come back?_ he thought to himself, expression turning a little confused.

He'd been so lost in thought, he didn't see the Siren running towards him, neither of them did, left over light cane in hand. 

It all happened so fast after that. Eyes widening, slender frame toppling his own, Tron's eyes filled with shock, surprise.

_And then everything went white._

–----

Alan had searched the building, checked the back rooms, the old office upstairs, eyes finally coming to a stop on the old Tron game to his left. It was the only game without a cover, so he went over to investigate, maybe even play it a little while he was here.

 _..Maybe some other time,_ he thought to himself, a light, reminiscent smile crossing his face. The older programmer turned to make his way down the hall to the door, but a muffled shout caught his attention, stopped him dead in his tracks and made him turn around. He stared at the old game a little more closely, walking back over to it after a moment, leaning down and around to check it over more thoroughly.

Then he heard it again.

Alan stood back up abruptly, eyes glancing at the sides of the game before gripping them firmly with both hands, pushing experimentally to the left before trying the right.

It moved.

He pushed the game to the side as far as it would go, taking a few steps back once he was finished to find a door behind it, expression filled with surprise. Alan walked over to the old looking door after giving it a brief look over, reaching out with a hand and turning the handle, half expecting it to be locked.

But it wasn't.

A dark hallway lay in wait behind it, almost inviting. _..What were you doing in here, Flynn?_ he thought to himself, curiosity taking it's toll as he carefully began making his way down into the dark passage, unsure of what he would find at the end.


	10. Users

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay I actually had this whole bit where Sam runs into Tron outside the Grid version of the Arcade and Alan follows Sam into the Grid and they all meet and are shocked and converse, etcetc, but when I re-wrote the start of Part 2 I completely..re-did that whole scenario. Soo..that's why this chapter seems so short, I took that whole chunk out. So yeah. They'll meet in Part 2!

**Users  
**

_Gem_ , that was all his mind really registered amidst the circling waves of light.

“What are you doing-” Sam had started saying after being so abruptly torn from his own thoughts by the Siren's sudden actions, the slender, white program positioned over him with that _damn cane_ he was so tired of seeing, the bottom end still faintly coated in his blood from the earlier..'chat' he and Zuse had, as the program had put so lightly.

The portal light whited out everything before Sam could continue, there was nothing but black before the smell of the old basement office hit his senses, the feel of the hard, _cold_ floor against his back, the lack of an identity disc and circuitry and a form fitting suit and-

And Tron wasn't here.

 _ **Not** the time to think about it,_ he thought insistently, pushing his thoughts aside as his eyes stared up into white, trying to get a grasp at what had just happened.

The Siren moved quickly, before he could put any real understanding together, rising quickly to her feet with a similar swiftness to how she moved on the Grid, her eyes darting around like she was seeing the world for the first time. Well, technically she was seeing the world for the first time, _Sam's_ world.

 _It's not how I had imagined.._ Gem thought briefly, pulled out of her short lived wonder at the new world, the new colors, textures, even the new feel of her own body. Everything was so _different_ , but in basic form so much was still the same as on the Grid.

“What the hell?!” he let out, sitting up quickly from his position on the floor and staring up at the program a little wide-eyed, confusion written all over his face, feeling a little disgruntled.

Somehow, it didn't feel right having her here.

Not her.

“Sam?!” he heard Quorra's voice shout, dragging his eyes away long enough to give the ISO a brief recognizing, disgruntled look, her expression mirroring his own, “What's going on?! Why is she-”

But before Quorra could finish, before Sam could give an answer, the Siren swung her recently acquired cane at the ISO after quickly discovering that the tool couldn't fire its blasts of light where she was now, opting for its other function as a weapon. Quorra was quick, still a fighter, still had her fast reflexes, but she couldn't dodge the swing in time, not with how surprised she'd been at seeing another program enter the 'real world' from the Grid, particularly when she wasn't given any notice. The cane hit her side with a good deal of force before the Siren swung again, aiming for her side once more while knocking her off balance with a kick to the side of her knee. 

Quorra half fell into one of the file cabinets still left in the old office, filled to the brim with dusty, old scribbles and collections of his fathers' old data, though more of it was probably up to date than out of date, even given when he'd written and typed it all. 

The ISO's other side hit the lengthy corner of the file cabinet hard and Sam could hear Quorra let out a strained sound, could even see the dust clouds fly off of the old objects from his position on the floor. 

Sam quickly scrambled to get to his feet, not bothering to try and come up with any real plan, instead running straight at the Siren, wrapping his arms around her quickly and trying to grab her from behind, Gem letting out a protestant shout at the action. The Siren sent the end of the cane back into his stomach in a rough blow, and the User let out a breathy grunt at the hit, his arms loosening just a bit automatically at the unexpected pain spreading through his stomach, but it was more than enough for Gem to turn in his loose grip and hit him across the face with the handle of the cane before kicking him square in the chest with a heeled foot.

“Gack-!” he let out, hands instinctively moving to press against the new injuries, automatically taking a few steps back with the force. He kept his eyes on the Siren, however, never letting her out of his sight.

And he was glad he didn't, not with the hit Quorra landed.

The ISO had grabbed her large, hard covered book off of the desk and hit Gem square across the face with a shout of her own after she'd turned around, sending the Siren crashing unconscious into the flat top of the desk before sliding down and landing on the floor with a 'thud'. 

“Nice shot,” Sam grunted out, a half, triumphant grin spreading across his face.

“Jules Verne,” Quorra said proudly, rushing over to him after a moment with a hand braced on her side, “Are you alright? What happened? Why is she here?”

“I don't know what happened. One minute I was standing alone in the portal and the next thing I know she's tackling me to the ground. She just barely managed to shove her way in before the portal sent me back,” he answered, voice a little strained from the pain in his chest, standing back up straight on his feet as he spoke, a hand on his stomach, “She didn't give me any sign of wanting to come here. I didn't see it coming.”

Quorra looked at him intently as he spoke, eyes turning back to the Siren after giving his words a moment of thought. “What are we going to do with her? She can't stay here, right? But we can't just send you back either,” she said a little more calmly, trying to come up with the best solution for the new problem.

“I'll take her back,” Sam said calmly after a few moments of thought, eyes looking over the Siren briefly before returning his attention to Quorra.

“But Sam-”

“No,” he cut her off, expression turning a little determined, “It's..my responsibility now. She got here because I wasn't paying enough attention, I should take her back.” 

“..Are you sure? I could-” Quorra started, but Sam cut her off with a brief shake of his head.

“No, I'll do it,” he said with a small, quiet, resigned sigh, straightening full with a small wince at the pain that shot up through his torso. _She really got me good, on top of already having been through hell. Twice,_ he thought to himself, moving over to the Siren and kneeling down, reaching over and pulling her up with his hands, picking her up in his arms bridal-style.

“Don't you look dashing,” Quorra teased, giving Sam a slightly cocky look.

He just cracked a smile of his own as he rose an eyebrow, giving the ISO a small shake of his head at the comment, walking back over into position in front of the laser. Quorra sat back in the chair at the desk, set the timer, and sent Sam back to the Grid, a little reluctantly, with a white flash of light.

They didn't realize they were being watched.

–----

Alan had made his way down the dark passageway, taking the steps carefully with a hand constantly placed on the railing. He'd rounded at least two corners before he found another door, _the only_ other door, since it was the only thing left at the dead end of the hall. The older programmer had turned the handle slowly, cautiously, unsure if it was even unlocked and what he was going to find on the other side of it if it wasn't. But, like the previous door, it was unlocked. He only cracked it open enough to get a small look inside the room behind it, but what he saw stunned him into silence, practically glued to where he stood at the sight.

He saw Sam, and his room mate Quorra, as well as another woman he'd never set eyes on before, dressed oddly in some kind of strange, formfitting white outfit. Whatever the case was, she looked foreign with how she was dressed, albeit a type of foreign he'd never seen before, and he'd seen his fair share. But, that wasn't what shocked him. 

Sam disappeared before his very eyes, with the woman. Gone in a blink.

His jaw fell slack.

It was like some sort of disappearing act in a movie, except this wasn't a movie, and no one here was a magician. 

Alan stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring, brain trying to put sense to what he just saw, trying to understand, but he just..he _couldn't_ understand. 

So he finally pushed the door open and stepped inside.

–----

Quorra's head snapped at the old, rusted squeal that came from the door behind her, eyes going wide at who had stepped inside, mainly that someone had stepped inside at all, but who it was just made it that much worse.

“Alan..” she trailed off, disbelief obvious in her voice. _Oh no oh no oh no oh no what do I do?!_ were her only thoughts, panic and a small case of adrenaline coursing through her. “What are you doing here?!” she let out in a slightly higher pitch than usual, and immediately kicked herself for it, and what she'd just blurted out. _Because that didn't sound suspicious_ , she mentally reprimanded herself.

“Quorra,” Alan decided to start slowly, eyes glancing gradually around the room before returning to the young woman, “Where is Sam.”

The ISO flinched, just barely, but she could tell he saw it, saw her back go rigid right with it. “Uhh..” she trailed off, eyes darting off to the side in thought, hoping to get an idea from her surroundings, “his bike!” She finally answered, eyes returning to the older User- _man_ , her mind tried to correct. “I mean motorcycle! It broke down and he's out fixing it,” she said a little too quickly.

Alan's face was carefully blank, eyes unwavering from her face.

It just made her even more nervous. She was terrible at coming up with lies on the spot with the few people that were close to Sam, and she could tell that the older User- _man_ , her mind corrected automatically once more, wasn't buying it.

“I saw it, Quorra,” Alan said slowly again after a few moments, “I saw the woman in white, too. They both disappeared,” his voice dropped a little lower, expression serious, “Where..is..Sam.”

Quorra stared back for what felt like an entire cycle, _year? Later,_ she mentally scolded herself, eyes darting to the side, expression gradually turning from panicked to a little resigned, guilty. “You..” she trailed off, looking back up at the man, “You might want to have a seat,” she suggested after finally coming to a conclusion. It took him a minute, but he finally did sit down over on the old, dusty couch, too focused on what had happened to mind the mess and the fact that the place hadn't been cleaned in roughly twenty years. 

“Sam is..on the Grid. You see..about twenty years ago in your time, the Creator- I mean, _Flynn_ , created a digital world in his computer system called The Grid..” Quorra started, eyes glancing at the laser timer briefly before returning to the man on the couch, _I'm sorry Sam. There's no other choice, I **have** to tell him now._

He didn't move an inch or speak a word, eyes intently focused on the young woman across from him as she spoke.

–----

 _Sam Flynn_..the programmer thought to himself, fingers tapping the table top's computer keys furiously, hunched over slightly, eyes intent on the screen in the desk, _he shouldn't be the CEO of this company, he's too irresponsible and just as flighty as his father._

Edward Dillinger, or 'Junior', as some people had taken to calling him, which annoyed him if he were to be honest, but he kept quiet about it. He was staying after work, late after work, still working on the new program he was coding. Or, maybe it was an old program. He'd found the remnants of his fathers' old Master Control Program and decided to modify it, see if he couldn't adjust it, improve it to meet his own standards in the modern day era. Granted, he didn't like the idea of strictly using something someone else had created, so he rewrote a large majority of it, only using small bits and pieces from the original coding.

It was a side project, if anything, something to vent his frustrations into and work on until he was willing to leave the office and go home. He was already well ahead of his programming schedule, _of course_ , he thought to himself, pausing briefly to push his glasses back up his nose. But, after a while it became more of a mission to complete it, to turn it into a tool he could possibly use to 'dethrone the undeserving prince'.

 _Sam Flynn must be removed from the equation,_ he finally concluded to himself, a slight devious smirk finding its way to the corner of his lips, _and I will see to it that it happens. Soon.I **will** take you down._

  
**End of Part 1**  



End file.
